


Untold

by NinjaDino721



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy - All Media Types
Genre: One-Shots, Rocket-Centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-23 14:05:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 53,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3771031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NinjaDino721/pseuds/NinjaDino721
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What makes us who we are? The past experiences we have endured as we take our lives into our own hands?<br/>A series of Rocketcentric one-shots, revealing the untold mysteries of the ring-tailed Guardian of the Galaxy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prison Number One

Rocket had always taken a great pride in his criminal history, he had been arrested more times than he could count and had always gotten a kick out of the adrenaline rush he received after outrunning the authorities, but he made sure never to overlook the boasting rights he received after leading what was now twenty-three prison escapes.  
The Guardians had only witnessed the Kyln escape which was unfortunately, thanks to their new ‘goody two-shoes’ reputation after having defeated Ronan, was most likely the last of his prison breaks. However, that never stopped him from utilizing his bragging rights to the best of his ability.  
The majority of his arrests had been due to his reputation of a trigger-happy bounty hunter, only a few tracking back to his actual escapes in question. That was one thing he loved about the ability to travel intergalactically, very rarely was the law enforcement able to carry jurisdiction outside their own quadrant.  
He had been recaptured by certain prisons and those who had a reason to hunt the furry bounty hunter down, which was a lot seeing as though his love for explosives had created quite the reputation for the ringtail. And, although he tree man had spent the majority of Rocket’s short life of sentience with him, Groot still had only managed to witness a small number of those arrests.  
In fact, all of the Guardians had heard many a story during one of their group outings to the local pub, he had never passed up the opportunity to boast his abilities to his friends, he loved to see the amused expressions on their faces when expressing his tales (although there was always the chance of exaggeration when it came to getting Quill to give him the wide eyed and guffawed look.)  
However, with every story he told with that trademark toothy grin of his lining his lips and a bottle of some burning liquid in hand, there was one prison that he never dared to mention. One that no one had dared to ask about.  
Prison number one.

Dark.  
Cold.  
Pain.  
There few other words to describe the place. Well there were many words actually. One could wright entire books on what hell actually looked like from the inside, and he was sure one of those damned white-coats had, but those were the only few ways to describe the experiences the creature had been forced to endure when one has only just gained sentience.  
Dark.  
The blinding lights that reflected off of the white walls and white coats and reflected off of the blood that stained his fur and hurt his sensitive eyes didn’t keep the word from becoming more prominent than ever.  
He was never told what was being done to him, never told what would happen this time when they traced that sold scalpel down his back or chest or took those black and red wires that were strung into those damned holes in his shoulder plates that ran electricity and pain and cold and burning through his entire being.  
He wasn’t a being.  
He wasn’t a he.  
It  
Subject  
That was what they called him.  
Subject 89P13  
A thing  
A string of numbers  
Something for them to torment and hurt and keep in the dark as they bring more blood pooling to the surface, shaving off the fur and shoving his head and arms and legs full of metal and more wires and pain and cold.  
They taught him to speak after weeks of pain and cold and dark and silence. He never understood what they were saying before the day they stained his neck with red and forced him to learn their language, shouting and hitting and starving him until he cooperated, gave him pain until he learned to say the word ‘please’ to get the dry chalky food put back in his cage or to refill the bowl of water that he had spilled when they forced him to hold it in his hands rather than drinking straight from its position on the floor.  
His throat burned and his eyes filled with tears, but they never stopped until he would say that damned word.  
Until, that is, that they decided they wanted more from him.  
Hey wanted a weapon, something they could control and would obey their every command, they stopped listening to his pleas, deciding suddenly that their creation’s one learned word would no longer affect them as they continued to make him more machine than animal.  
And they paid no attention to the expansion of his vocabulary, such as when he added the word ‘stop’ to his protesting shouts, not that it ever stopped him from trying. It gave him something to scream that meant more than snarls and whimpers and animalistic barks of pain. It made him feel like he was being heard as more than just some creature despite the fact that he had never found one to ever meet his eyes or respond to his screams and cries.  
Until they got tired of that too. Deciding that the addition of his vocal chords and translation chip had been a manufacturing mistake.  
It was in the midst of another cybernetic addition to the creature’s body that their patience had run out. Little to the white-coats’ knowledge, or rather they did know and simply did not have the energy to care, their subject’s pads of hands and feet were more sensitive than they had cared to take into account, especially when the incisions were administered without the use of anesthetics, something they found to be unnecessary as it would make their weapon prone to weakness at the very hint of pain.  
They had already filled his arms and legs with cybernetics that moved and adjusted under his skin, something to make him stronger and more resilient, a feature they tested many a time, leaving the creature with a good amount of bruising under the coarse fur. And the next appendage in need of augmentations were the hands, He had recalled reading it on one of the white-coat’s clipboards, a skill he had picked up on without the use of abuse and shouting but rather by staring at the strings of numbers and letters that declared the names of the rooms he entered and the tags that were pinned to the breast pockets of each coat.  
He knew it would hurt, it always did, but that never prepared him for what was to come, he still screamed and squirmed under the restraints they forced his wrists into.  
They had already pinned him down on the damned table, pressing harshly down on his chest when his back arched from the shock of his scar tissue lining his shoulders touching the intense cold of the metal slate.  
He shouted when he felt his arms being stretched towards each end of the table, rising into a panic when he heard the metal clasp around his already horribly bruised wrists.  
“Please stop!”  
No one listens.  
No one ever listens.  
He keeps screaming, blinking away the tears that well up in his eyes, shaking his head and snapping at the hands working to place a leather strap over his skull to keep him from moving further.  
He can no longer see anything outside his peripheral vision. He sees shapes moving to the side, saying words he still has yet to learn, and quite loudly for that matter as they rush from one side of the table to the other.  
He yelps when he feels a latex covered glove touch his hand, gripping it tightly and splaying out his fingers despite his instinct to clench into a fist.  
He shouts again, begging them to stop.  
He sees the gleam of the light reflecting off the metal of a scalpel from the corner of his eye and he shouts louder, trying to shake away the bonds holding him down.  
“Stop! Stop!”  
No one even spares him a glance as the scalpel is lowered out of his vision and pressed against the palm of his right hand.  
He whimpers in pain, arching his back as his nerves become alight with a sharp pain. His breathing has raged into a hyperventilating fit.  
“Please stop!”  
The tool is pressed deeper into the skin, this time drawing a line deep enough to splice the muscle of his thumb.  
He opens his mouth to shout again, but his mind has risen into overdrive and he can’t control any of the words he hopes to form. So he doesn’t speak. He screams. He shouts and shines and arches his back and snarls and snaps at every hand that dares to enter his line of sight.  
One hand moves to clasp his muzzle shut, the woman shouting something angrily toward him that he can’t make out over his own screams. His teeth bite down on the hand before it can successfully hold his mouth closed and another scream fills the room. This one angry and followed quickly by a harsh slap to the face that ends the raccoon’s shout as he bites down on his own tongue.  
Blood fills his mouth and he want to say something when the hands are back again, this time actually keeping his jaw locked and teeth grinding into one another.  
Since that day, they had brought in a proper muzzle to their procedures, muffling his screams and shouts entirely, limiting the creature below them to no more than to cry quietly to himself, staring blankly at the bright lights above him, silently wishing that they would just do their jobs and blind him already. Maybe then they would give up on the creation of their perfect specimen, after all, they would find little use of a weapon that can’t see.  
Apparently, now that they had been forced to clamp the thing’s mouth shut with every cybernetic addition and skin deep operation, the white-coats had seemed to regret making their largest addition more than ever.  
He was still struggling to understand the words the white-coats used when dragging him by the scruff of his neck to his next procedure, but he understood the gist of it all from where they traced their latex covered fingers along the base of his throat and pushed away the fur to shoe the newly sealed scar from his vocal augmentations.  
‘Too much struggle.’  
‘Weak.  
‘Mistake.’  
The phrases he could understand were repeated on more than one occasion as they lifted him from where his feet were dragging weakly behind him on the cold tiled floor and up to the metal table awaiting him.  
He groaned something weakly through the muzzle, wishing they would just tell him what was happening. He could feel his heart seize in his chest when he saw the tools on the metallic tray.  
They gave him a voice and they were taking it away just as quickly. And by the sound of it, it seemed as though they were wondering themselves the reason to give their creation the ability to speak in the first place when all it did was resist.  
They needed a weapon, a thing to follow orders, something that wouldn’t resist or retaliate. He knew that was what they wanted.  
By the looks that some of the white-coats gave him , it seemed they blamed the ringtail in question for their ‘waste of money operation.’  
The operation to remove his vocal chords had proven to be too expensive, that they needed was compliance.  
Torture.  
Electricity.  
"Stop!" His voice was scratchy and garbled, his ability to vocalize proving more harmful than anything else at the moment but that didn't stop him from pleading as the white coated scientist wrung his latex gloved hands around his middle, causing the small creature to cry out again in fear.  
The panic only grew from there. He had been placed on his stomach, his head twisted uncomfortably to the side as firm hands held down his writhing body from escape. Because there was no escape.  
No escape.  
No way out.  
At least that's what he had learned over the years. Every time he bit, scraped, ran. He was always caught. Always subdued by another tranquilizer as the long needle was pressed forcefully into his skin until eventually he just stopped trying. Stopped running.  
Larger hands wrestled down his own as he tried desperately to pull away from the metal restraints on the table while another figure carried over a bundle of neatly wound wires. The small creature only struggled further upon seeing the chords, as though scalpels and needles weren't enough torture, they had taken to electrocution as of late, tampering with the implants on his back and chest. He didn't know their purpose, only that it hurt.  
"No! NO!" He shouted again, snapping at the hands that held the small plastic guard for his mouth. He writhed again, managing to gain back one of his paws and clutching it tightly to his body as of not to lose it again.  
He heard one of the figures let out a long sigh before trying to wrestle the arm back into place. "Remind me again why we gave you new vocal chords." The voice muttered. A firm hand presses on his back and the small creature let out a stifled shout as the pain coursed up his spine, the figure took advantage of the ring-tail's pain and wrangled the arm back into place, cuffing it firmly to the steel table.  
"Don't do that!" Another voice called back, but the injured animal couldn't turn enough to see them. "Those prongs are directly connected to his spinal cord, you damage that, you might damage the brain stem." The voice finished. The man holding him down only shook his head though before finally letting go of the writhing creature's back, allowing him to take a gasping breath.  
The creature felt his other arm being pulled away against his will towards the second restraint when the room jolted to one side, sending a few syringes and some other supplies clattering to the floor and he suddenly found that he once again had control of the appendage. Without thinking twice about it, the small animal pulled the arm in again, grasping his fur to keep from losing it again when he realized that there was no longer any hands trying to grasp it back.  
The pressure on his midsection had lightened substantially as the scientists began to look around nervously. "What was that?" One of the figures finally asked, his brow drawn with confusion. The others exchanged a few wary glances before shrugging.  
"Earthquake?" One suggested, her hold on the animal still struggling on the table growing firm again, forcing the air out of the creatures small lungs. The others seemed to think on the explanation before turning back toward their cowering experiment.  
Boom!  
Another blast shook the room, this one more forceful than the last and the hands holding the creature down were removed entirely. "What's happening?" A figure shouted angrily, striding to the other side of the room and pulling open the doors. The creature had yet to get up from his position in fear of reminding the remaining scientists their original task but the muffled profanity from the man at the door alerted him that whatever was out there wasn't good.  
"It's Nova." He seethed, practically tearing his lab coat off and heading towards the second exit that led to the other testing rooms.  
The other figures fell into a sudden state of panic, grasping their heads in their hands and following suit. "What do we do with this?" One of them asked frantically, pointing towards the restrained raccoon.  
"Grab it, we can't have it falling into Nova's hands as evidence." He shouted back, making his way towards the dissention table and tearing the restraint off of the creature's small wrist.  
The raccoon didn't waste a second in lashing out at the men, scraping long claw marks through their lab coats. The one that had been holding him let out a startled shout, dropping him instantly onto the cold floor.  
"Grab it!" The animal heard the other shout, but he was already scrambling to his feet and racing out the double doors. His heart was racing at a mile a minute and he was almost afraid that it would somehow leap out of his small chest, but his legs didn't stop moving as he ran through the white-walled hallways, ducking under other frantic scientists and dodging their hands as they reached down to grab him, but he was far too quick.  
Freedom.  
Escape.  
His mind couldn't quite grasp the concept yet, still worried this was all some sort of test to see just how well he could strategize his escape, yet he continued to run. That is until he found himself facing another predicament. The creature skidded to a halt as he veered around the corner, almost crashing head on into the man's blue clad leg.  
He scrambled back, staring up fearfully when the man turned around, holding some sort of weapon in his hands that was now pointed directly at the raccoon. The animal closed his eyes tightly, awaiting the electric pulses run through his body, but it never came. In fact, the figure had dropped the gun entirely so that it now hung loosely at his side.  
"Hey." The voice was surprisingly calm and the animal slowly unclenched his eyes, looking up shakily as the man began to crouch down.  
Trap.  
His eyes widened and he reared back towards the wall to avoid being grabbed again. He was so close and he wasn't about to allow himself to be caught yet. He awaited for the man to lunge, ready to leap away and take off down the maze of hallways again, but the figure didn't move from his position, simply holding out a hand calmly, as if waiting for the creature's approach.  
The raccoon only bared his sharp teeth, wanting nothing other than for the man to move out of his way so he could complete his escape. The man pulled back his hand, realizing that the untrusting animal wasn't about to comply.  
The Nova Corps had been alerted of an illegal facility somewhere near Xandar, reported to have been experimenting on animals, but he hadn't been prepared to come face to face with the frightened raccoon. His eyes scanned the creature, it was fairly skinny and its course fur was missing in certain areas, but what caught his attention was the three mental implants sticking out of his heaving chest.  
"Did they do this to you?" He asked, knowing that the poor animal probably couldn't understand a word of what he was saying, but he found himself almost falling over when its hand raised up to feel the three prongs uneasily before nodding back at him and turning around slowly, showing three more implants on the creature's scarred back.  
The Nova officer felt sick to his stomach at the thought of the pain that the creature must have been feeling. But it could understand him, which meant that there was a possibility of getting through to it his intentions.  
He put a hand to his own chest, gesturing to himself. "I'm not going to hurt you." He said clearly, cringing as the animal's eyes squinted with unease. "We're here to get you out."  
The creature's aggressiveness dropped almost instantly upon hearing the phrase. "Escape?"  
The Nova officer stumbled back in surprise. It could speak. He cleared his throat and shook his head, trying to regain his composure as the raccoon took a tentative step closer. He nodded frantically, and the animal's eyes widened with what he could only place as hope. "You're escaping today." He said, reaching out to pick the animal up and take him back to the Nova ship when a searing pain raced up his spine.  
The raccoon stood there in shock as the man clutched his chest and fell to the floor, blood starting to pool around him from the bullet wound. The scientist holding the gun behind him gritted his teeth and aimed the weapon towards the animal. "Come with me, and no one else gets hurt." He said, gesturing towards the fallen man sprawled on the ground.  
The raccoon stared at the fallen man in astonishment. "Escape." He managed, grasping the blue man with all his might, ignoring the blood that was now covering his feet and fur. He couldn't go back. Not now.  
"There is no escape!" The scientist shouted back, clicking the gun and coming closer to the experiment, making to grab him.  
The creature reared back, still holding the arm of his fallen savior, eyes scanning frantically for anything, anything that could save him. Then he saw it. The discarded pistol at the dying man's side, the one he had dropped to care for the animal before he had been shot.  
The Scientist moved steadily towards him, one hand outstretched to grasp the being's tail when a deafening shot shook the walls and there was suddenly a second body at the raccoon's side, jolting and writhing in pain as electricity shot through him before he froze, his eyes open and staring blankly into the animal's eyes, sending a chill up its spine.  
He was dead.  
He had killed somebody.  
The sound of shoes against the hard floors shook the creature out of his thoughts. There were more coming. More scientists, saviors. He wasn't sure which, but he did know that he didn't want to go through that experience again. He tore his gaze away from the haunted eyes of the man who had once tortured him. But not anymore. He was getting out. He was going to escape this prison.  
His first prison escape.  
The one he never spoke of.  
The one no one asked about.  
Prison number one.


	2. Blue to Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Watching the movie, I had always wondered why Saal and Rocket seemed to have an almost unspoken bond, including the scene where Rocket’s name happens to be the man’s last words. This is my take on what could have been a possible backstory between the two.

Everyone’s got dead people! That’s no excuse to everybody else dead along the way.  
The creature didn’t have the set of terminology to describe this particular predicament at the moment, but he was sure it followed somewhere along the lines of ‘this sucks.’  
He didn’t know how long he had been scampering along the shadowed alleyways of some rundown gang-based town, the three pursuers… or maybe it was four, he couldn’t keep track at this point as more branched off into separate directions, obviously knowing the planet’s mapping down far better than the bolting raccoon. His artificially enhanced heart was beating far too hard in his bare chest, and his lungs were throbbing with a sick, burning sensation as they felt as though they were ramming right up against his small ribcage, but he continued in his frantic running nonetheless, scampering on three legs whilst the fourth clutched the tattered wallet to his chest.  
He hadn’t even gotten the thing from the lanky alien’s back pocket before a bony and callused hand had gripped his own, catching the kleptomaniac red-handed. Unfortunately for the toothy creature, the raccoon had possessed far quicker reflexes than he had first anticipated and had been left in a shrieking fit as he stared at the bloody bite marks marring his scraggly arm, the thieving creature already halfway down the next alleyway.  
The panicking animal wasn’t stupid however, he may not have been accustomed to people of the higher class who didn’t resort to the torture of others for their amusement, but he knew pickpocketing someone in a rundown neighborhood wasn’t his best idea, no that he had had many since his short weeks out of that d’ast lab, but he was smart enough to know he needed something more than garbage scraps and rain water to survive. Something he hadn’t thought of when tearing his way through countless white coats.  
He also knew that these means of survival did not come free, although the occasional passerby would sometimes take one look at his limp and malnourished form before tossing him a scrap or two from their own supply, but his aching stomach and weakening state of mind could really only take so much more. He hadn’t escaped that blasted cage to die of starvation now. There was still so much more he knew there was to see, things he had to at least live to see. So, clutching his receding belly once more, he had made a decision. He would have to steal.  
He just wished he had chosen a better target now that the lanky man was spitting curses he hardly understood, clutching his tattered leather prize for dear life.  
His already weakened form was shuddering violently now as he continued to run, scanning the alleyway for any source of a hiding spot where he could lose the enraged aliens.  
He took another sharp turn, almost shouting out in surprise when one of the men who had split off further back down the road had leapt in front of him, tripping over his own feet slightly before scampering past, barely dodging the lunge the slug-like creature had made at his ringed tail.  
Only when he heard the smack of another thug running head-on into their partner did the raccoon let his guard down enough to let a chuckle of success escape amongst his labored breaths, glad to have the extra distance from his pursuers. However, it did not erase the fact that his energy was depleting alarmingly fast, even with his panic driven spurt of vigor. Something he knew would become an even larger issue the further he ran in his shaky condition.  
So, taking one last look over his shoulder to find the only two pursuers that had yet to take off down another path had been caught up in their own argument, still sprawled upon the ground in a mass of tangled limbs and slime for that matter, the raccoon took this as his chance to dart into a temporary refuge to catch his breath, scrambling madly toward the blue dumpster conveniently around the next bend and struggling to fit his body under the low-standing bin.  
And for a moment, everything was dark and calm and panicked all at the same time. His senses were running haywire, the smell of garbage making his stomach lurch, threatening to spill whatever little contents it held in the starving creature, and his twitching ears were only filled with the sound of his own strenuous breathing and furiously beating heart. And only as he let himself drop from a careful crouch to a limp fetal position under that dumpster did he realize just how much damage the running had done to him.  
His legs felt as though they were alight with flames coursing through his bloodstream as his nerves flared and throbbed with pain. All energy he had felt while running wad left him completely as he closed his eyes, focusing on the simple task of filling his lungs with air.  
In fact, he had gotten so caught up in the feeling of oxygen running through his system again, that he had almost completely forgotten why he had been running in the first place were it not for the limp thump of the little leather package falling from his shaking hand to the pavement.  
Two beady eyes snapped open at the sound, staring blankly at tattered wallet in shock. He couldn’t believe that after all of that, he had still managed to keep his prize. Whether or not it carried enough exchangeable goods to trade for the food he so desperately needed, or not, that much still remained a mystery. But seeing as though the thugs had put up enough of a fight to get it back, he assumed it held enough to sustain him for the time being.  
Clawed hands fumbled slightly for the leather casing, hoping to get an estimate of what he had lifted from the thug, not that he really knew how currency worked at this point, when a sharp pain erupted in his lower spine.  
A startled cry erupted from his mouth before he could react to the hand grasped tightly around his tail before it pulled hard, yanking him from his makeshift shelter and lifting him off of the ground entirely. Another shout of pain escaped his trembling body when his head was slammed against the lip of the trash bin as the lanky man pulled him fully from his hiding spot and to the scraggly creature’s eye level.  
The raccoon hissed and spat furiously, refusing to let go of his prize even as he swiped his free hand at the alien’s face. The pain in his tail was becoming almost unbearable by the time the man had begun speaking to him, not that he would have understood much under that thick accent anyways. But he cringed nonetheless at the menacing smile it gave him, the man’s pointed teeth seeming to glint with saliva in the dim light of the alley, practically spitting in the animal’s face as he jostled the creature slightly in his grip, another flare of pain running up his spine as he hung upside down, clutching the wallet like a lifeline.  
“Rat… get away that easy… thieving pest… kill you…”  
Despite his limited understanding of the horribly pieced together phrases, it was enough to make the creature’s gut seize with something other than hunger, but the sense of dread. As he watched the man pull out something made of metal that reflected the streetlight even brighter than the thing’s teeth, he began to struggle further, shouting for mercy and screaming those same damned words he had found never made a difference in the end no matter where he was. “Please don’t!”  
The grin had only grown wider at that. Something that the raccoon was surprised was even possible as the alien’s lips were already pulled into an uncomfortably long smile that stretched from one pointed ear to the other.  
The gangly man had begun to speak again, although this time none of the words had made it through the creature’s panicked mind as he watched the bony hand raised the knife to his already horribly scarred chest, prodding at one of the augmentations that had yet to heal.  
“…freak… kill you… us all a favor…”  
He was kicking and screaming now, begging to be let down as pain coursed through his entire being, the sharp end of the knife slicing small groove into his already reddened skin and allowing a small trickle of blood to run over his scarred chest and soaking into the grey fur. He cried out again when the metal sliced him again, cutting deeper this time, and horrifyingly close to one of his protruding cybernetics at that.  
He didn’t care that the wallet that he had fought so hard to keep had slipped from his grasp during the third stroke of the knife across his skin, or that he had become increasingly lightheaded during the fourth and fifth. The only thing he had cared about at this point was to escape.  
His hands that had been clutched to himself as a makeshift shield from the prodding of the blade moved to clutch at the hand wrapped tightly around his tail, digging his claws as deep as he could bury them which, seeing as though the energy in him had been drained almost entirely as dizziness began to take over, wasn’t very deep in the slightest, only making the vengeful beast holding him hostage chuckle lowly, a sound that sent shivers run up the raccoon’s spine.  
He felt the blade move to make the final cut at the creature’s throat, putting the thing out of its misery, when the pain in his tail was removed entirely and he hit the hard pavement with a sickening thump, not wasting a second after hitting the ground to scramble for cover again, falling into another bloodied heap under the garbage dumpster.  
Everything hurt.  
His knees were drawn into his chest almost instantly, burying his head into his bloody chest and throwing his furred arms over his head, awaiting the last blow.  
Nothing.  
He didn’t dare open his eyes, knowing only that the creature would be waiting for the animal before him to let down his guard just for a second before crushing his skull. So, straining to listen for anything other than the violent beating of his own artificial heart, the creature’s ears perked up, scanning for the sound of retreating footsteps, hoping- praying that the alien had simply taken back his stolen possession and left the creature to die alone.  
What he heard instead made him curl up further in his balled up position, aching tail wrapping tightly around its quivering body. He heard footsteps, but they were coming closer, at a horrifyingly fast pace that made his perked ears retreat right back to the pinned position against his head, eyes screwed shut tightly.  
“No!” he let out another shout as he felt a hand reach under the container to rest against his side as though to pull at his arm this time. And to his surprise, the hand retreated, almost as though in shock to the outburst, not that he thought the existence of cybernetically altered animals to be far too common in this quadrant of any other.  
He tried to force himself into a tighter ball when he heard shifting feet behind him, hoping that if he tried hard enough he might just disappear in on himself entirely.  
“It’s okay. You can come out now.”  
The raccoon tensed at the new voice, eyes snapping open in surprise and head swiveling towards the third being to have joined them in the alleyway.  
…  
Saal hadn’t been too grateful for the mission the Nova core had given him. In fact, he rather despised the planet entirely. It had been devoid of what he would call civilized life entirely, instead giving way to dealers and traders of the black market, streets filled with only the strongest and nastiest creatures that had claimed their territory, forcing any and all other residents to retreat indoors or to another planet entirely, provided that they were able to afford it.  
So it wasn’t much of a surprise when he saw the gang in the street over begin to curse and shout loudly after some retreating form, spitting some incomprehensible phrases that Saal couldn’t even begin to understand.  
However, seeing as though there was really no other lead to keep the corpsman-in-training busy, he decided to follow, finding himself increasingly intrigued in the situation as he saw just what it was these men were all chasing after. Stumbling over in a fit of laughter at the sight of five men struggling to keep up with such a small rodent, a tattered wallet in hand, Saal began to question why exactly the Nova corps had seen the planet as a threat at all.  
There was really no reason to continue the chasing of the ‘raccoon hunt’ as he had been so soon to dub them. So, taking another look at his watch, he decided to head back to the ship he had been provided. Maybe he could head back to Xandar early and request for a new venue, hopefully somewhere further in the direction of the Keystone quadrant, he had heard about the team that had taken down some illegal cybernetic unit, and wished over nothing else than to have been part of it, despite the loss they did have with one of the officers, having been shot down by one of the escaping criminals. Although there was no information on who it had been to have taken down the shooter himself, claiming most of the officers had suspected both men fired at once, killing each other in the process.  
His thoughts were cut short when he heard the strangled cry of something that he could only pinpoint as animalistic. Had they caught the pickpocketing rodent? It really wasn’t much of his concern that the poor man to have surprised the creature so much would end up with some infection, there was no way a creature on this planet didn’t at least carry some form of rabies. Only the frustrated sound of the attacker being bitten never came.  
Instead, the only thing he could hear was the continued garbled yelps of the animal, making Saal wonder what exactly the thugs would go through to get their possession back from the screaming creature.  
“Please don’t!”  
The Corpsman’s head snapped toward the voice, not even taking a moment to contemplate where the voice could have come from before taking off down the narrow alleyway between two brick buildings, only pausing in his frantic run to listen for the strangled shouts again, making sure he was traveling in the right direction.  
The man slowed his run to a quieter pace when the strangled cries and menacing growls grew louder, hoping not to sound off any alarms and cause the victim any further pain then they were already being forced to endure. He only realized now, as he faltered to draw his gun, that he wanted nothing more than to have been provided some form of back up in this particular situation, not that the man would have been hard to take down, but in the fact that not only did he not have a proper authority force to send him to due to the fact that the backwater planet was not particularly under Nova jurisdiction, but he had no one to take the victim under their wing either, assuming whatever torture that was making them scream so fiercely was in any way life threatening.  
So biting his tongue and cursing whoever had assigned him to this damned planet, Saal veered quickly around the next corner, knowing full well he only had a window of time to depict which of the loud incomprehensible voices to shoot at, assuming there were only two. He had forgotten to take into account that he had seen more than one thug chase after the thieving animal.  
The amount of energy leaving the blaster, which had been at last minute switched to the ‘stun’ setting, was enough to make the grown man stumble back a bit, not having shot the thing in the field before. But the surprised garbled shout of pain that the slender figure let out as it fell to the ground, seizing with pulsating with electricity for a moment before falling into a limp stillness, told Saal he had met his mark. He was so proud of his aim in fact, that he had forgotten there was a third figure in the alleyway entirely. At least he had until he saw the retreating black and brown striped tail disappear underneath the blue dumpster, leaving a trail of blood behind as the thing dragged its belly on the rough pavement.  
The corpsman frowned slightly, wondering if he had been following the right voices to that spot. He had definitely heard two humanistic voices. One being the fallen stick-figure at his right and the second begging for mercy, and quite loudly at that. So where had the other person retreated to?  
In fact, he would have left the frightened creature under the dumpster to search for the runaway victim had he not noticed just how much blood was in the alleyway. He pulled his booted foot away in disgust when he noticed he dark puddle under him, leaving a red print on the pavement when he stepped it down again.  
He wondered for a moment if it could have been the unconscious alien, having hit something on the way down, however the puddle was too far from its form, and the blue liquid that trickled from its most likely broken nose did not match the crimson at his feet.  
The trail didn’t end there however, in fact, the owner of the spilled blood seemed to have drawn a trail straight toward themselves as Saal noted the darkened patches of dark red that glimmered in the dim street light, as though whatever body it had belonged to had dragged itself away from the crime scene and hidden itself… under the dumpster.  
The man was far more than confused at this point. Not only had he apparently imagined a second voice while pursuing the now comatose alien, but said alien had decided the overgrown ferret that had taken his most likely empty wallet, deserved to have been drained of its blood and put to death for its thievery. Granted, he didn’t know much about the community, much less the people around these parts, but it seemed as though a thug such as this wouldn’t have wasted more energy than necessary on some sticky-fingered animal.  
Nevertheless, Saal decided to look further into the issue at hand, stepping cautiously over the puddle at his feet and nearing the trash bin. The corpsman let his mind wander to the question of what he had planned to do with the creature after removing it from its hiding place. He doubted there was any high-esteemed veterinary hospital… or any hospital for that matter, anywhere near his location, and taking in strays wasn’t exactly one of Nova’s top priorities. But at this point, as he was already down on his knees to peer under the darkened cover the creature had taken shelter in, he saw little drawbacks to at least making sure the animal hadn’t already died of blood loss.  
So, spotting the shuddering figure that had balled itself up under the large container, Saal reached in a hand cautiously, not wanting to carry the same teeth marks that the Tasered alien behind him held on his own forearm. However, it wasn’t the threat of being bitten or snarled at that had made the man reel back, falling from his crouch position and onto his rear when the thing did react. No, what had sent his mind into overdrive was the way the wounded creature shouted out fearfully… or more that it had shouted out at all.  
“No!”  
The cry was strangled, yet undoubtedly human in its comprehension of the word.  
Taking another moment to compose himself, Saal switched his balance so that he was kneeling again, this time simply holding his hand out near enough to the edge of the bin to gain the creature’s attention without making physical contact with it again.  
“It’s okay. You can come out now.” He said in a hushed tone, grimacing awkwardly at the situation. Had he truly gone insane with boredom on this planet to the point that he was taking to rodents? Although the response he received only confirmed his wandering thoughts on the tangent of talking animals.  
“N-no, go ‘way.” It stammered back, turning to glare at the taller figure, wet eyes almost glowing in the dim lighting. Despite the fact that he couldn’t quite make out the creature’s shape in the darkness of its temporary shelter, Saal had no doubt in his mind that the thing was growing weaker by the second, its labored breathing echoing against the metal underside of the garbage container and a pained whimper escaping its mouth when it tried to scramble back further into its hideaway.  
“Come on, I’m not gonna hurt you.” Saal tried, still feeling unbearably uncomfortable as he tried to coax the thing out. He didn’t want to have to make a grab for it again, but now that he had gotten this far, he found himself unable to simply leave it there to undoubtedly die from the blood loss it had suffered. “What do you say I help get you fixed up?”  
He received no vocal response his time, but the movement of the creature’s glowing eyes told him that it was shaking its head furiously, inching another step back and forcing Saal to lean down even further to keep the animal in view. He bit his bottom lip. He understood the stubborn creature’s hesitation to the strange man in front of it, however, the cold night air and the wetness of what he could only pray was water on his hands and knees were beginning to make him impatient.  
He was about to open his mouth in another fruitless attempt to talk to the creature when his gaze fell upon a small object sitting not too far from his right hand. Pursing his lips tightly together, Saal picked up the wallet in his hand, flipping it open and holding it tauntingly close to the edge of the trash bin, hoping to gain some sort of reaction. And to his surprise, the beady eyes flickered from the man towards the thing it had almost risked its life for, angling its head lower as though trying to see what the contents were.  
Much like Saal had expected, the small case didn’t have much value in itself, carrying only a few units tossed tightly into the crevices of leather. Not that it had really made a difference to the curious creature that watched the man’s every move with great interest.  
“Is this what you wanted?” He asked cautiously, turning the thing upside down and emptying it of its contents, he wasn’t about to actually allow anything to happen to what small amount of money was being tossed to the asphalt, he was sure Nova would have something to say about a potential mugging to get a freaking ferret from under a trash bin, but if it made said creature edge ever so slowly forward, he couldn’t say that it was worth a shot.  
The animal’s eyes were flickering between the blue clad man and the money that had been poured to the ground as the creature drew itself forward at an unnervingly slow pace. He didn’t know quite what he was expecting when a clawed hand shot out from underneath the dumpster, snatching a token in its palm and pulling back into the darkness just as quickly, but the move had piqued his interest nonetheless.  
Reaching forward with his own hand, Saal gathered the remaining units in his palm, tossing them playfully as the creature stared back wide-eyed. “Why would someone like you need to steal this for anyway?” He asked, both trying to keep the animal as close to the entrance of its hiding place as possible, as well as interest in the thing’s reasoning for thievery.  
The eyes fell from the clattering units in his hand and towards the ground, a look of what could almost have been placed as embarrassment glinting in its tired expression. “… hurts.”  
Saal’s brow drew low in confusion. Of course the creature was hurt, honestly, that was the only reason he was still here, crouched uncomfortably on the cold ground, trying to coax the bleeding thing out from under a freaking garbage dumpster. Biting his lower lip, the man tried once again.  
“Here.” He lowered his hand again, this time so that it was practically touching the ground, his palm laid open flat and the remaining units sitting just within the creature’s reach.  
God he hoped this worked.  
…  
His nose twitched instinctively when the man lowered his hand to his level again, the small tokens that could give him the cure for this pain in his stomach glimmering tauntingly in his palm.  
The man who stood before him was far friendlier than the one that had made him bleed, but that made little difference as he inched once again toward the edge of his shelter. His body still ached from hunger and exhaustion, and with every move, he could feel the cuts the other alien had made in his skin open wider as they dragged across the rough pavement beneath him.  
He still held the one silver piece he had managed to snatch off of the ground close to his chest, rubbing the smooth metal between sensitive fingers as he looked out upon the remaining collection. It was just within his reach, all he had to do was take it. The man was offering it so he doubted he would have been caught in another chase scene like he had with the taller alien. But some sense of discomfort in his gut told him to keep both hands out of the open.  
Unfortunately for him, the feel of hunger and greed had pushed the unease aside when the units only grew that much closer.  
His paw shot out again, this time snatching a gold piece, placing it beside the silver one in his other hand. The man had flinched slightly, but didn’t move to take the remaining tokens away from him. So, eyeing the shiny plates warily, he reached out again, making to add another to his small stash. Another gold piece was grasped weakly between fumbling fingers when a sudden warm pressure overcame the protruding palm.  
It wasn’t until the raccoon had tried pulling back frantically that he realized the larger hand full of units had all but closed around his wrist, holding the creature tightly in its grasp.  
Trap.  
“N-no! No!”  
More pain erupted in his chest and soft belly when the hand pulled, dragging the hardly conscious creature out from under the dumpster, keeping a tight hold on him just as the other one had with his tail. He was frantic. Clawing and snarling and shouting as loud as he could muster. Which wasn’t all too loud in all honestly as a coughing fit made it almost impossible for him to breathe.  
The hold the man in blue had switched him into didn’t help the matter in the slightest, one arm wrapping tightly on his bloodied chest while the other had gone from gripping the animal’s wrist to trying to flip him onto his back as one would hold a newborn.  
The coughing had ceased but air still refused to inflate his lungs. His throat burned with thirst and the pain erupting from the bleeding wounds littering his body had all but worsened. Large hands struggled to keep a grip on the now whimpering creature still, and as the burning and the pain grew, the darkness began to settle in, making the creature feel light headed all over again.  
The last thing he remembered before giving into the feeling of numb darkness was a hand raking its large fingers through his fur as the man whispered something towards him that was lost in the muffled void of unconsciousness.  
…  
The creature had all but gone limp in his arms. And for a moment, Saal had feared that he had somehow killed the thing during his struggle to calm it down. However, the shaky yet stable rise and fall of the thing’s chest told him it had only fallen into a fit of exhaustion.  
And he didn’t blame it either. Blood was covering its entire chest and was still seeping sluggishly through the thin slits that littered its surprisingly light weight body. He felt an uncomfortable feeling in his gut that made him nauseous when the officer felt the sticky liquid drip from the coarse fur and onto the hand that cradled the unconscious creature. But he ignored it still, turning on a heel and walking back the way he had come.  
He wondered if maybe leaving the scraggly man he had Tasered was really the best of ideas, but the sickening feeling of the creature in his arms quivering weakly paired with the coppery smell of its blood told him otherwise. He left with a sneer, dropping the remaining units along with the tattered wallet beside the attacker before making off with the wounded animal in hand, making to head back to his ship.  
The walk wasn’t far, much to Saal’s pleasure seeing as though the cold night sky was begun to darken further with heavy clouds, and the last thing the discouraged Nova officer needed right now was the rain.  
As the doors closed behind him, Saal realized just how lucky he was to have been provided the shelter of his ship on a planet such as this. He knew he had once complained about the cramped size of the thing compared to the more prestigious officers, especially on a lone mission to some barely supervised planet, but compared to the dingy apartments with broken windows and flickering lights made him feel all the more grateful when he stepped aboard the brightly lit ship.  
The airlock shut behind him and the man set to work instantly, moving to lie the creature down on his own pull out cot and groping for the first-aid kit above the dash. It didn’t hold much, but he knew some disinfectant and cause would do the bleeding animal a lot more good than it would harm.  
Upon turning towards the creature in question, the man felt his stomach drop again. The lights of the ship gave Saal a chance to finally see exactly what he had brought upon himself. The blood he had felt coating his hand in the alleyway had stained the creature’s fur coat, some even dripping from a small would at the back of its head.  
Unfortunately for him, the fur wasn’t the only thing stained with blood. In fact, the creatures entire chest was dripping with the liquid, including the large hairless patch marred with scars and metal prongs.  
Saal wanted to throw up. The metal pieces jutted sharply from the reddened scars, some still crusted over with old cabs and newly healing skin, meaning they hadn’t been there for all that long.  
The other thing the man was quick to take notice of was just how small the thing was as it tried to curl into a ball again, its mangled tail twitching as it moved. He had never seen an animal of this species before, but he was sure it wasn’t supposed to have been that thin. Were the tangled fur not covering its sides, Saal was sure he would have been able to count the thing’s ribs, not that he couldn’t make out the outline of the bones already. Its stomach was sunken in sickeningly so, making the officer wonder how long it had been since the animal had eaten anything.  
His hands were shaking as he wet the cloth with a mix of water and disinfectant. He knew wiping away the blood was the first step to getting the creature on the road to recovery, but the cybernetic prongs that jutted out of its chest made him all the more nervous. He stifled a surprised gasp when the animal reacted to the cold cloth coming to contact with its bare skin, arching its back slightly at the uncomfortable feeling before falling again into his unmoving state.  
Saal continued with a slightly quickened pace, switching out the rag for a second one once the red had become too much for the first one to hold. He wasn’t sure how much he trusted himself to administer any stitches to the knife wounds, so the man was incredibly grateful to find the thin surgical tape in the corner of the kit, using it to hold closed the wounds before wrapping them thoroughly in gauze.  
Saal wasn’t a doctor of course, but he couldn’t say that he wasn’t proud at his work when he looped the last piece of gauze tightly into place and stepped back to look over his efforts. The bleeding had stopped and the man had managed to get most of the dried blood out enough so that only a slightly pink tint was left to the grey and brown fur.  
The only thing there was really left to do was to wait and see what happened. The creature was cute enough, the black mask around its eyes giving the appropriate illusion of a small bandit, he was sure someone on Xandar would easily take the thing in as a pet. However, the slightly important fact that the thing could actually talk was a continuing issue. Science divisions would want to take it in for themselves, and everyone would want to know where it had come from, based on the metallic implants in its chest and back, he was sure that it couldn’t have been born with this level of sentience, unidentified species or not.  
One thing he did know, however, was that he couldn’t stay here. The dark neighborhood was no place for anyone to try and survive on their own in, animal or not. Although he couldn’t say that the course he had set back to his own home world wasn’t in any way for his own selfish reasons, he really didn’t want to stay on the planet any longer than he had to either. So, pulling out a blanket that wasn’t stained in blood, Saal left the creature curled up on the bed and took his place at the pilot’s chair, leaning back in the creaky and uncomfortable contraption, watching the stars and the blackness of space outside the window before giving way to sleep himself.  
He sat bolt upright with a startled gasp when he hear the shouting, looking around in a dazed state of confusion forgetting there had been a second occupant aboard his ship for a moment. Upon seeing the wide-eyed animal on his own cot, Saal stood up, holding his hands out in a calming gesture as it turned to look at him.  
The thing’s fur was on end, teeth bared and breathing at a horrifyingly fast pace. “Hey, hey. It’s okay. You’re safe.” He tried reasoning, flinching slightly when the creature let out a frightened whimper, shrinking back further into the corner.  
The sheets of the bed had been all but torn to shreds by the panicking animal, as well as some of the bandages on its own body, which had begun to stain red again at its own hands, or more accurately, claws. And it didn’t seem it have been taking to the cramped space of the craft all too well either.  
Saal took a step closer, hoping to get it to stop scraping those sharp nails against its own chest when it let out another whimper, this time turning its body to the side in a rather feral manner, ready to snap its teeth at the man’s hand were it to come within range.  
“You’re hurt.” The officer stated plainly, watching as the animal’s gaze darted from side to side, as though looking for an escape. “You’re on my ship now, I’m going to help you okay?”  
“Trap.”  
Saal was slightly taken aback by the word, still trying to grow accustomed to the fact that his creature in front of him could speak. Although he couldn’t be too sure how well yet, as he had only heard short spurts of words coming from the frightened animal before him. The other thing that he had only just picked up on, was how young it sounded, like frightened child trying to grasp onto this new concept of speech.  
His thoughts were interrupted when the animal removed a hand from where it was tearing at its own skin to point in accusation at Saal, refusing to make eye contact. “Trap.” It repeated.  
Saal looked down in guilt. “Yes, I tricked you.” The animal bared its teeth at the confession. “But I needed to get you out of there, you were dying.”  
“Red. Red. Cut red.” It stammered, dropping its shaking hand back to the sheets and gathering the torn fabric in it.  
Saal licked his lip nervously, dropping to his knees, trying to regain the animal’s gaze. “Yes, you were bleeding, he hurt you.” The animal shrunk back again, wrapping its tail around itself. “He’s not going to get to you again okay? You’re safe here.”  
The animal was staring blankly at something in front of it, only flinching slightly when Saal reached forward again, this time actually brushing its fur with his fingertips before resting it on the creature’s side entirely. He continued to pet it in a calming silence when he heard the sound. A painful growling of the creature’s sunken in belly.  
“Are- are you hungry?” He asked, although it was already obvious judging by its malnourished appearance that food was something the animal had not seen in an uncomfortably long while. His suspicions were confirmed when the beady eyes moved from where their blank stare had been held, to the man’s eyes. It gave him the smallest of nods before moving a clawed hand to its stomach when it growled loudly again.  
“Hurts.”  
Saal was up in an instant, moving quickly to pull the cupboard of food open. Nova had provided the officers with plenty of food for their missions, none of which Saal had been more grateful to have until now as he grabbed quickly at the tasteless crackers and packets of nuts, hoping he could get some protein in the animal’s stomach before it fell into another state of panic. It hadn’t moved from its spot in the corner of the cot, but its once dulled and tired eyes came alight and the button nose was twitching with curiosity as the officer turned around, arms full of food.  
The first thing to have been unwrapped were the crackers, already crumbling in his hands as the man tried to fish one from the package. Once the flakey thing was held between two fingers (although a good portion of it had fallen to the mattress) the animal was on its feet, throwing all caution to the wind and snatching the cracker greedily into its own hands, not waiting a split second before shoving it into its mouth.  
Saal had barely begun to grab another from the sleeve before the hand shot out again, practically tearing the packaging from him and tearing into the thing itself. “Wow, wow!” Saal stammered, grabbing back the wrapper, which was now only about half full. “You’re going to make yourself sick.”  
The animal looked up with an expression of defense, which was honestly the most adorable thing Saal had seen as its cheeks puffed out with the amount of food in its mouth. “More.” It demanded, struggling to stand and reach for the bag again. “More please. Hurts.”  
There was the word again. Saal wondered for a moment if there was another injury he had forgotten to tend to. “What hurts?” He asked, groping for the gauze again.  
“Hurts.” The hand fell back to the animal’s stomach, clutching it as though in pain. “Please.”  
Saal’s eyes widened in realization, holding up the package again. “You’re hungry?”  
The furry head bobbed up and down in a frantic nod. “Hu-hungry.” It copied, and before he knew it, the package was back in the ring tail’s grasp, the rest of the cracker being wolfed down in a matter of seconds.  
“Well one thing’s for sure, you’ve got some sticky fingers of you my friend.” He stated, holding out the tin of nuts, allowing that to be taken into the animal’s clutches as well. He almost laughed when the creature tapped its fingertips together in confusion as though to prove its hands were perfectly clean. “What’s a thing like you doing on the streets stealing empty wallets huh?” He asked, not really expecting an answer as the creature continued to gnaw on the unsalted nuts. But he received a halfhearted shrug, its eyes staring blankly towards the wall again.  
“You don’t have a home do you? Someone taking care of you?” He hadn’t thought of it before having taken off of the planet’s surface, but Saal was beginning to wonder if it had been his best move. Was someone looking for the half-starving creature? There was no way it had simply been created this way and lost so easily, the amount of money and science to have gone into the cybernetic augmentations would have possessed anyone to keep the animal on close watch.  
The ringtail shook its head. “No one.”  
Saal furrowed his brow again, curiosity altering his thought process. “Where… where did you come from?”  
The reaction was instantaneous, a shiver tracing itself up the creature’s spine and leaving it shaking uncontrollably, beady eyes darting from one corner of the room to another. It was looking for an escape again.  
Regretting his mistake, Saal tried to console the animal, reaching to steady the quivering figure. Another regrettable mistake he realized when three long claws raked themselves across his wrist. “Don’t take me back! Can’t make me!”  
“I’m not. I won’t. I’m just taking you to Xandar okay? That’s where I come from. We’re going to get you to see some doctors to get you healed and-“  
“NO!” The animal reeled back. Its breathing had picked back up to an alarming pace and its hands flung up to pull anxiously at the fur atop its head. “Can’t go back. Please. Can’t go back…”  
Cradling his stinging wrist to his chest, the Nova officer found himself staring back in horror as the creature continued to repeat the phrase as though caught in a panicked loop. Some broken record that couldn’t seem to rid itself of its jumping needle.  
“You won’t go back.” The loop quieted for a moment, although I was still being repeated quietly through the creature’s mouth as its gaze flickered up to meet his own. “I promise.”  
…  
The man had left him alone after that. And despite the guilt he felt for forcing him to sleep in the uncomfortable looking chair, the raccoon had yet to move from the corner of the bed he had placed himself in. The other thing to not have moved since the sudden panic attack, were the creature’s eyes. He had not removed his gaze from the officer.  
He had recognized him too. Or at least he had though he did at first. Having lived a life full of masked whitecoats, the raccoon was still hardly rehearsed in the talent of placing faces. But he definitely recognized the blue. The blue that had saved him from the cages and the pain. The blue that had been quickly lost in a sea of red. The blue hat had pushed him to kill…  
As much as he trusted the blue to keep his promise and take him further from the cages and pain, to give him a second chance, a life without the red, he also feared what might happen in the future. Deception. Traps. He had already fallen for one of the man’s tricks, and it had landed in this confines container. Simply a larger cage, the guard standing inside with him this time.  
However. If the man in blue had wanted to kill him, he wouldn’t have offered him food. The sustenance that had ridden his stomach of all the pain. And for once, the creature was feeling something other than fear. He felt confusion.  
Confusion of what the man wanted from him. If there were good people in the world that wouldn’t die on him. People he could put trust his in.  
As it turns out, there weren’t. Not for him at least.  
The moment the ship had touched down on the planet with two suns, he had bolted, not even taking a second to look back at the blue man shouting after him. Of course, if anyone had kept up on the story of the infamous ‘Rocket Raccoon’, it was Denarian Saal. Rocket had given him a toothy grin the first time he had been taken in by the blue man, arrested for thievery and the second time for ‘disturbing the peace’ during some bounty hunt.  
Eventually, the man had stopped smirking back, staring almost in annoyance whenever the bandit was arrested… again. Not even giving him a sideways glance when he and the other Guardians had been sent to the Kyln.  
But he hadn’t missed the way the man had chuckled to himself when ‘taking orders from a hamster’. Or the way he had shouted Rocket’s name through the dying comms when his ship had been blown to bits.  
At that moment, all he could see was red. And it had blinded him with rage and deception and pain until the moment he crashed the ‘borrowed’ Ravanger ship into the Dark Aster. Until Ronan was dead. Until the sky was alight with explosions and fire.  
Until the blue turned red.


	3. Hard to Come by

Rocket’s vision had begun to blur the further he ran. Groot, of course, was at his side, already taking the lead as his long legs carried him further with each step. Rocket had already dropped from two legs to four sometime within the past minute or so, he couldn’t really recall how long they had been going, but it was long enough to make his spine hurt from being forced back into the downed position after all this time of settling as a bipedal creature, and his lungs burn with labored breaths.  
He tried to look behind him, sneaking a glance as what they were running from, regretting the decision instantly. The black figures behind them were hard to make out against the dark background they ran across, but their angular and spidery forms had all but gotten closer since Rocker had last looked back. And if his wavering vision wasn’t deceiving him, he could have sworn they had also gotten larger, their limbs stretching out to ungodly lengths and reaching toward him with their long fingers.  
Rocket pushed himself forward again, his blood running cold with panic as the adrenaline kicked in again. He could no longer feel his legs as he ran faster, only a cold numbness that would have sent shivers up the raccoon’s spine were he given the opportunity or time to even think about the uncomfortability of the situation. However, the only thought that was running through the creature’s frantic mind was that he had to keep going.  
Go faster.   
Go further.  
Go-  
He was practically ripped from that looping thought when something wrapped itself around his ringed tail, halting him in his running as it yanked back. Rocket didn’t want to turn around, didn’t want to look at the think holding him with its deformed hand, he knew what it looked like already, knew who it was.  
“Groot!” The shout tore itself from his throat as the hand continued to drag him back. He clawed at the ground frantically, shouting again when there was no earth to latch onto, as though the surface he was lying on were a smooth tile. “Groot help!”  
The Flora Colossus, finally having stopped short in his own running, turned around slowly, gasping in horror when he saw what was clutched to his friend’s tail. The hand’s grasp had grown tighter, lifting up to pull the dangling creature off the ground entirely by the accursed extremity.  
Shouts and curses and snarls and animalistic barks erupted from Rocket as he was slowly lifted into the air, forcing his eyes shut as to not make eye contact with the thing holding him, that was what would kill him, he knew it.  
A second hand reached to trace his bare chest, running slender fingers slowly across the cybernetics that protruded from his mangled scars. Rocket let out a yowl of pain when fingers turned to nails and nails turned to scalpels, as though the things had been grafted permanently to the form.  
He felt hot blood running from the deep cuts they made and into his fur. He felt dizzy, but whether it was exhaustion, pain, or simply from his upside-down position, he couldn’t tell. He felt white hot searing pain in his abdomen as the blades continued to cut deep into him.  
Why couldn’t he just die now? Just escape from more pain and suffering. He felt enough blood running down from his belly to his chest and up to where it traced the sides of his face before dripping off his ears to have killed him already. But he was still here, still alive, still fighting weakly to escape the demon clutching to his tail.  
He wanted it to end, wanted to open his eyes and face the thing that had taken so much pleasure in tearing him apart. And he had begun loosening the tight clenching he held on his lidded eyes when he remembered there had been someone else with him.  
“I… AM… GROOT!” The deep rumbles of his friend’s words sent a relieving warm feeling in Rocket’s shivering body, a smile spreading across his most likely red stained face.  
“Groot! Help me!” He shouted, crying out in pain as the monster’s nails dug into him again, switching its grip so that the raccoon was held now by the scruff of his neck. Rocket’s stomach churned at the movement, feeling the blood that still spilled from the many gashes littering his small body changed direction, dripping from his tail rather than the pointed ears atop his head.  
“I am Groot!”  
Rocket held his eyes closed still as the voice grew closer and the creature holding him lost its footing, stumbling back slightly as the wooded man rammed up against it. The monster let out a guttural growl as it moved back into a strong stance. Rocket could make out what was happening, but he knew the moment the unforgiving grip on the nape of his neck had released entirely that Groot had tacked the thing again, this time coming out on top with his smaller friend out of its grasp.  
Rocket fell with a pained grunt, falling unceremoniously into a fetal position on the cold smooth ground. “Groot?”  
He remained blinded to the world around him as he reached out for his friend, hoping Groot would gather him up in a protective embrace before beginning their run again. His ears twitched upon hearing the familiar creak of wood as Groot moved behind him. “Groot, I need help.” He confessed again, not even trying to hide the sob that racked his small figure.  
He heard the creaking again. But his friend refused to speak or take a step closer.  
Rocket was beginning to feel panicked again, his stomach lurching when the creak of movement turned to a deafeningly sick sound that seemed to echo throughout his mind. “Groot.” He tried once more, struggling to lift himself from his curled position. The movements were hesitant and shaky, but Rocket managed to force his eyes open.  
“Groot?”  
His breathing had all but caught in his throat as he caught sight of the wooded figure. Groot was still standing upright, facing the monster that had once held Rocket. In other words, nothing seemed out of the ordinary at first glance. That is until you saw the lanky arms dangling lifelessly at his sides and that blank yet horrifying expression that glazed over his once gleaming brown eyes.  
Groot wasn’t even holding himself upright, the only thing that now held the stiffened colossus in his current position was the hand of the dark shadow of a figure pressed tightly against the tree’s chest. A sickening black tar color webbed itself from the bark where the hand touched, running like ink staining water across Groot’s entire being until the once moss covered brown bark had been all but rotted black. It wasn’t until the shadow finally pushed the lifeless body away, allowing Groot to topple over backwards in a smoking husk on the ground at his feet, that Rocket could fully grasp the concept of death.  
Groot didn’t die.  
He couldn’t die.  
He had survived the crash on Xandar. Survived bullets and swords and time itself as he practically refused to age.  
Yet here he was. Lifeless eyes bore into Rocket as he stumbled back from the corpse.  
Groot was dead. Dead because of him.  
Selfish  
Groot died protecting him.  
Worthless  
Groot should have kept running, kept away from Rocket once the creature had gotten him, should have ignored him.  
Killer  
Because Rocket had called for help. Because Rocket had forced his friend to turn back.  
“My fault, my fault, my fault, my-“  
The loop of words was echoing from a second entity.  
“Leave me alone!” He cried, a broken sob wracking his body. The shadow echoed. Lying on its hands and knees as Rocket sat.  
Rage  
“This is your fault!” He pointed at the figure.  
The figure pointed back.  
“You killed him! You killed him!” The two figures ran blindly towards each other, shouting over one another, yet the shadow’s voice was always louder.  
“You’re a killer!” fingers pointed accusingly at one another.  
“You’re a coward!” Rocket’s feet left the ground again as the two lunged.  
“You’re a-“  
Monster  
Rocket’s eyes widened, staring with horror at the shadow, its gaze staring intensely into his own. He was shaking and his breathing had stopped entirely as he looked toward the deformed demon in front of him smile, pointed teeth almost glowing against the dark fur that lined its muzzle.  
The creature’s mouth opened widely, shouting the same phrase Rocket had been whispering not a moment before. “MY FAULT MY FAUL MY FAULT MY FAULT” Rocket clutched his head in his hands as his own voice echoed through his mind. “MY FAULT MY FAULT MY FAULT!  
Clenching his teeth, Rocket turned back to face the thing, tears stinging his eyes as he let out a final shout of anguish, pounding his fists against the figure.  
The mirror shattered.

...  
“Groot!” Rocket sat up so fast that his head spun with the dizzying feeling of a head rush. Not that he cared as he kicked his feet from the bed, untangling himself from the sheets that looked as though they had tried to strangle him during his attempts of escape. He hit the floor with a thud when he had finally managed to rid himself of the restraining clutches of the blankets upon the tattered mattress, breathing unsteadily when he felt the uncomfortably familiar feeling of the smooth floor beneath his fallen form.  
“groo?”  
Rocket’s breath hitched in his throat upon hearing the small voice, snapping his head up to stare blankly into the darkness, searching for the source of the barely audible question. “G-Groot?”  
The room was quiet for a moment before the voice answered him again. “groooo…” The sapling squeaked again, waving his small arms frantically from where he sat on the night stand, trying to grab the raccoon’s attention.  
The sprouting colossus was snatched off of the desk in an instant, letting out a startled squeak as his pot was clutched tightly in his friend’s fumbling paws, a ringed tail wrapping around the white ceramic.  
Wooden tendrils were wiping at his face the instant a broken sob escaped the shaking animal, trying to wipe away the tears that had built up around the rims of his masked eyes. “groo?”  
Rocket shook his head, struggling to take in another breath. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”  
“groo?”  
Rocket paused in his shaky murmurs, stopping to take a deep breath before looking up to face his recently reborn friend. “Fine. I’m fine. Just a bad dream.” He assured him, although Groot didn’t seem all too convinced as he continued to run thin vine-like hands through Rocket’s fur, trying to cease the shaking.  
“groo?”  
Rocket shook his head again, placing the pot aside and moving to stand up. “I don’t wanna talk about it. I’m fine, just-“ He paused upon standing, feeling a dreaded sickly warm feeling in the crotch of his jumpsuit. He gritted his teeth angrily, reaching up for the light switch and bathing the room in a bright light that made him wince. “Shit…” She whispered harshly upon the confirmation of his suspicions. Groot looked up again at the raccoon’s outburst, frowning as Rocket ran his fingers through his fur tiredly tugging at his suit as though it had somehow stuck itself to his fur.  
The sapling stiffened upon realization, turning his gaze away nervously, trying to give his friend the space he required. Rocket knew Groot would never think anything of it, and quite honestly, as a species that didn’t need to release themselves of toxins through urination in the first place, he found no reason why anyone would be embarrassed by the unconscious release in the first place. Yet he respected the raccoon’s wishes nonetheless, shrinking back quietly as Rocket began to hunch his shoulders in humiliation, turning away to face he opposite side of the room.  
Stupid. He thought. He had let his guard down, hadn’t planned for a situation like this. Not that he was ever very well prepared to piss himself during an especially bad night spell, being caught in streets and cheap motel rooms while on their bounty hunts. But he would have thought to have been more prepared when boarding the Milano.  
It was enough that he was the only Guardian to have been mistaken for some easily discouraged pet on more than one occasion, but this? Quill wouldn’t let him live this down if he had ever found out.  
He finally made the move to strip himself of the seemingly restricting clothing while letting his mind wander to a plan of action. He considered simply going back to sleep, grabbing a new blanket and curling up around Groot’s pot until morning, hell knows he was exhausted. However the musty smell that seemed to fill the room made his stomach churn with disgust, he didn’t even know if it was real or just his mind reminding him that he still couldn’t keep this damned spell under control, but he knew he wasn’t about to get any sleep until his sheets were cleaned and he had gotten a proper shower.  
He was glad for once that he had fur to cover his otherwise bright red face. Clearing his throat, Rocket turned back to face the potted Groot, feeling even more heat rise to his cheeks when he saw the sapling looking away almost nervously, tapping the edge of his pot with his stubby hands as though it held some form of interest to him.  
Groot let out a squeal of surprise when two hands went to pick him up again, placing him back on the night stand under the dim sun lamp Rocket had rigged for him. “Go back ta sleep Groot, I’ll be right back.” The raccoon murmured, reaching to pull the sheets from his bed and wadding them up along with his jumpsuit. Groot frowned sadly, wanting to reach out and comfort his friend again, but remained silent nonetheless, knowing full well the mortified raccoon wouldn’t accept. So with one last low whine, the sapling watched as the ringed tail disappeared through the bedroom door.  
Rocket let out a frustrated groan, running his free hand through his fur again as he continued down the dark hallway. His ears twitched slightly as he passed Gamora’s sleeping quarters, breathing with relief after hearing her soft snores echoing quietly as she shifted on the couch she had taken to sleeping on. He couldn’t imagine why the woman would have rather slept on the old cushions in the common area rather than sharing a room with one of the other Guardians like he and Groot had, but as he tiptoed past her, he could have cared less. Drax’s snores could have been heard from outside the ship, so it wasn’t much of a surprise to the soft-treading raccoon when the constant rumblings became louder as he passed the larger man’s room. The small room at the end of the corridor that somehow fit both an old rattling washer and dryer was just around the corner, and he was just about to round the corner had something not blocked his path.  
A very hard cold something that had knocked him back onto the floor.  
“What the… Rocket?” His ears swiveled up upon hearing Quill’s sleepy voice as he pulled the door back to reveal the raccoon he had just taken out. “Sorry, din’ see you.” He continued, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he watched Rocket push himself up again, grumbling angrily as he reached to grab his belongings again.  
“Yeah, whatever just go back to bed Quill.” He growled slightly, too tired himself to be able to put up with anything at this point.  
Peter furrowed his brow lazily, glaring just about as much as a man who had just woken up could glare. “Just getting some water man. No need to get all huffy with me, it was an accident.” His eyes trailed o the bundle of cloth in the raccoon’s arms. “What are you doing up anyway?”  
Rocket scoffed and waved the man off, although that didn’t keep Quill from noticing how his teammate shrunk in on himself the slightest bit, moving the bundle behind him before moving his gaze to the floor in an almost cautious motion. “Hey, you alright?”  
Rocket’s gaze hardened, making Peter almost flinch back in surprise when dim lights reflected off of gritted sharp teeth as the raccoon snarled. “Fine Pete, just go back ta bed.”  
“Ro-“  
“Drop it Quill!” This time he did flinch back, feeling the anger build up in his own expression as the ringtail finished wadding up the bundle of cloth behind his back, beginning back on his trek to wherever it was he was headed before the Terran’s interruption.  
“Fine, don’t have to be an ass about it man.” He grumbled, ignoring the way Rocket shifted uncomfortably out of the corner of his eye, instead pursuing on his own late night mission and heading to the kitchen for his glass of water.  
Rocket only watched warily as the man disappeared in a huff, gritting his teeth nervously at the man’s watchful eye. He knew his outburst was uncalled for, but in his defense, were Quill good at one thing, it would be getting in other peoples’ business. He was grateful for the Terran’s concern, but after a lifetime of having none other than Groot to coddle him in his distressed sate, it was unnerving to have someone constantly watching over your shoulder. Even the walking tree knew when enough was enough, leaving the raccoon to his grumbling rants and, in more extreme cases, his smoking guns.  
Having finally reached the washroom, Rocket pulled open the cramped metal contraption, gritting his teeth even tighter when it creaked loudly in protest. His ears twitched slightly in anticipation, waiting for one of the Guardians to come down the hall, only continuing with shoving the foul smelling material in the washer. “Stupid…” He grumbled in frustration, careful not to slam the thing shut as soon as he had managed to shove the last bit of bedding into the opening, still infuriated at the fact that he was even having to put up with this at this late at night, or at all.  
He should have been more careful, more prepared for a situation like this. Nightmares were a natural occurrence for the raccoon, and it was an occurrence that he liked to keep under wraps. The last thing he needed was for one of his new teammates to find out that their most aggressive gun-toting ally was one to piss his own pants at something as simple as a nightmare. To be afraid of something that wasn’t even real.   
But that was just it.  
It was real.  
He had killed Groot.  
If he had never gotten out of that damned lab- if he had never been created…  
Sure the tree man grew back, sprouting from the small stick that the blubbering raccoon had shoved in a dirt filled pot. But it made no difference to him. He had already spent the majority of the time waiting for the lifeless twig to respond as a blubbering mess. It had taken all three of the remaining Guardians to convince to leave his room after a week of the ringtail lying limply beside the pot, and whether he wanted to admit it or not, it was a time that would never leave the back of the smallest Guardian’s mind.  
He had been the cause of Groot’s death.  
He had died protecting Rocket, and there was no amount of alcohol in the world that would allow him to be convinced otherwise. Not that he had ever brought it up with the growing sapling. In fact, ever since the crash on Xandar Rocket had been reluctant to speak to anyone on the subject, excusing himself from any conversation that may have even began to relate to the idea.  
Rocket felt himself shiver involuntarily as a shaky sigh racked his body, both hands running over his face tiredly. What had he gotten himself into?  
“Rocket?”  
He flinched violently at the voice, dropping his hands from his face to where they sat clenched at his sides. “Quill, I told you to leave me alone!” He snapped, trying to keep his heart rate at a controlled speed.  
Peter’s gaze hardened as the raccoon shouted again, pursing his lips as though trying to hold back a retort. It wasn’t rare for the raccoon to be so reclusive, in fact, it was when he wasn’t snapping at everyone to dared to invade at least a three foot radius of his small stature that would have worried him more. However, he did know something was seriously wrong with his smallest teammate. Which is why he held back the angry protest he wanted so badly to respond with, growing irritated with Rocket’s refusal and aggression.  
Rocket shrunk even further in on himself the longer the man stared, knowing full well Peter wasn’t about to leave and was assessing the situation best he could before approaching the aggressive raccoon again. He knew he looked like a mess already. He could feel the salty crusted fur stuck to his cheeks left there by dried tears and it didn’t take a genius to know even his fur shouldn’t be that matted. His fingers itched to clutch his fur again, a nervous habit he knew Quill would pick up on in an instant, so he instead resorted to picking idly at the hem of his shirt, fraying the edges slightly with his claws as he tried to avoid the second Guardian’s gaze.  
“Can I help you?” He finally asks, exhaustion and frustration made clearly evident in his quiet voice.  
Peter takes a step closer, leaning up against the door frame to the washroom and folding his arms. “I was just about to ask you the same thing.”  
Rocket scoffed, folding his own arms and staring begrudgingly at the washing-machine as though it would magically turn on without him having to invent a way of reaching the buttons. Of course, it would have been a lot easier were peter not staring so intently at his exhausted form.  
He was glad he man was worried, it meant a lot that he had a family to care for him (not that he would be caught dead saying it out loud, he had a reputation to uphold) but he really wanted nothing but for the man to leave him alone at this point allowing Rocket to deal with his own problems in his own time. That was what he was used to and it was a habit that had been secured so tightly inside him that even Groot staring at him with that protective aura set the ringtail on edge.  
He just wanted to go back to sleep, the nightmares he faced were no new occurrence and it wasn’t often that he ever got a full nights rest, or really any rest at that unless passing out over an unfinished plasma blaster counted. But the last few weeks had finally caught up with him after all he had been put through between trying to grow Groot back from a smoking twig and all the repairs Peter had insisted he do on board, and he could think of nothing better to do than to slip into that dreamless state of unconsciousness he was able to find every once and a while.  
“Rocket?”  
The raccoon almost jumped upon hearing his name, having forgotten why he was even standing in that room to begin with, staring blankly at the metal contraption as though it had somehow offended him. Which it had seeing as though the buttons were placed so damned high out of his reach. He retorted with a light grunt, rubbing his eyes to clear away the crust from the dark fur.  
“What are you doing in here?”  
Rocket felt his ears fall back and he almost stumbled back when the man decided to take another step towards him, effectively blocking his exit. He didn’t even try looking up towards he man, knowing full well the expression Peter had as he looked down at the raccoon. Worry. Confusion… Pity.  
He hated the word, it felt as though every time he spotted someone who ‘pitied’ the escaped lab experiment, all humanity was torn away from him, leaving him feeling less like a capable person and more like some stupid thing that should have been put out of its misery long ago.  
He let a sigh of exasperation leave him in one big breath. The hand that had been rubbing his eyes only moments before was tearing at his fur again but he made no move to stop it this time around. “I don’t want to talk about it right now Pete. Please leave.”  
“Come on Rocket, I just want to help, just tell me what’s wrong.” Peter practically pleaded. “And don’t tell me it’s nothing, okay, I know there’s something going on. Nobody uses the washing machine in the middle of the night unless…” He trailed off, leaving the two in an uncomfortable silence that made Rocket want to shout.  
He didn’t move, his gaze trailing instantly to the floor, both hands now tangling his small fingers in coarse fur.  
He almost leapt out of his skin again when the man was suddenly at his side, reaching over the raccoon’s head and twisting the dials of the machine, giving the thing a good kick that rattled some loose screws from inside before starting the cycle. His breathing had become almost rigid in his throat as embarrassment made his stomach churn.  
He felt his ear twitch as Peter opened his mouth to speak. “You okay bud?”  
Rocket clenched his teeth again, turning towards the man yet still refusing to look into his eyes. “I told you to go away Quill, okay? I just… please.” He frowned at the utter weakness of his voice. He hated the feeling, and the nervous feeling weighing in his gut didn’t do anything to help him as he stood there, staring at Peter’s kneecaps because he was too much of a coward to even look the man in the eye.  
He refused to move when Peter’s knees bent, his face slowly coming into view as he knelt down, reaching a hand out almost cautiously toward the ringtail. “Rocket, it’s nothing to be ashamed of, just calm down okay?”  
Rocket pulled away, glaring venomously at the hand that had barely even brushed his shoulder. “Like hell, Quill. Of course it’s something to be ashamed of. It’s flarkin’ humiliating and I can’t do anything about it!”  
“Rocket, you need to calm down. It’s okay.”  
“NO!” He snapped back, actually making Peter stumble back a bit on himself. “It’s not okay. It’s pathetic and- and weak and I hate it! How am I supposed to prove myself if I can’t even handle some stupid nightmare?” He was practically shaking now his eyes staring blankly at the floor again as they glossed over with what he refused to acknowledge as tears.  
He could feel Peter’s gaze on him as though it were burning straight through him as he shifted uncomfortably, wishing he had a better opening as to leave the cramped room. “Prove yourself?” The confusion was evident in the man’s voice as he scooted closer once again, this time dropping from his kneeling stance in to a sitting position, adjusting his body so that he now sat cross-legged in front of the raccoon. “Rocket, you don’t need to prove anything. You’re part of the team man, we need you.”  
Rocket shook his head, giving the whirring machine one last glare before turning back, keeping his gaze lowered to the floor as he stepped past Peter and making his way quickly out the door.  
He just wanted to go back to sleep, hoping that maybe this time he would be lucky enough to fall into one of those dreamless states of unconsciousness that just let the anxiety riddled raccoon drift into a state of calm nothingness. Of course, with the luck he was having so far that night, he had barely taken a step into the hallway before a hand wrapped itself tightly around his wrist.  
“Lemme go, Quill.” He tried to growl out, although the energy had drained from him entirely and it came out, much to his disapproval, as a soft groan instead, catching at the back of his throat.  
“Rocket, come on. You know this doesn’t change how anyone thinks of you right? I mean I won’t tell anyone, but it’s nothing to beat yourself up about bud.” Peter’s voice had lowered drastically since he had last spoken, obviously having sensed the raccoon’s unease.  
Rocket tugged weakly against Peter’s grip, turning his head away to hide the tears that had built up think enough to spill into his fur. Great. Not only did he wet himself after some freaking dream, but now he was crying. He began to feel as though he was just the child peter was beginning to treat him as. “I know, I know. I’m sorry, I’ll be more careful next time. I just… I didn’t-“  
Peter’s grasp loosened, but didn’t let go, instead reaching around to take Rocket’s opposite shoulder in his other hand, turning the raccoon around to face him. And the sight he was met with after having twisted him around made the Starlord want to gather him up in a protective hug. Although his better judgement told him that despite Rocket’s obvious exhausted state, he wouldn’t walk away from the act unscathed.  
His ears were pressed tightly to the top of his head and although Rocket’s pride wouldn’t allow him to ac upon such an instinct, Peter could tell by the way his shoulders and back arched forward that he wanted nothing more but to curl up in a ball right on the spot. However, that wasn’t what made the man’s stomach churn with guilt. What made Peter’s grip tightened suddenly around his humiliated team member was his eyes.  
He hadn’t ignored the fact that Rocket’s beady brown eyes had been glazed over with wetness earlier in their conversation, but he wished he had caught onto how serious of an issue this was for the ringtail as tears ran from his unfocused eyes, staining his fur and dripping from his chin to the floor.  
It had only been a few short weeks since the Guardians had become an official team, and he knew the five had their own baggage to handle, still trying to overcome demons of their own. But peter liked to think that he had gotten to know them well, to think they had begun to work like less of a team and more of a family. A rather dysfunctional and unusual family at the best of times, but still a family nonetheless.  
He knew Gamora was still working through putting her own instincts aside. After what had been done to her by Thanos for all those years, especially after having watched her family slaughtered in front of her, there was a lot to deal with. But despite her introverted instincts kicking in the back of her mind, she had been able to come around, speaking to Peter in low voices about why she couldn’t sleep and even finding her in Drax’s arms at times.  
The larger man had different ways of dealing with his own family’s death. He wasn’t an open book to say the least, but when it came to how much he had loved his wife and daughter, there was no secret that he would do anything to avenge their death. Not that it had needed much hinting at seeing as though he brought it up whenever possible and had even called their killer to Knowhere all that time ago, making Peter wary to leave the man anywhere near the communication system were he ever to find the sudden urge to contact Thanos himself.  
And it hadn’t taken long for Starlord himself to confide in his friends, telling them about how much the old tapes had meant to him and why. No one had ever made the move to flat out ask about the man’s mother or how her death had occurred, probably fearing simply springing up the thought would send him cascading into a sobbing mess at the thought of having left her empty handed… literally. But he had caught on to their little quirks. Both Drax and Gamora had offered to take over certain duties on the ship or a shoulder to lean on during those off days when he couldn’t shake her from his head, and even Rocket had stopped complaining about the worn out recordings that were constantly played throughout the Milano’s cockpit.  
And that left two. The two team members the Guardians just couldn’t seem to place. One a cocky and rather violent raccoon and the other a gentle giant… well when he was fully formed that was. Both polar opposites yet the best of friends. Peter didn’t know how the two had ever become friends or even how they had met, but for whatever reason it was, he was glad they had found each other. They seemed to balance each other out almost perfectly, Groot always there to keep the hot headed raccoon from blowing off someone’s head, and Rocket always at the tree’s side to keep the kind, and rather ignorant at times, colossus from lending himself out as everyone’s doormat.  
The tree man himself wasn’t too hard to figure out. Despite his limited vocabulary, (or Peter’s limited hearing ability, he really couldn’t recall how it worked) Groot wore his heart on his sleeve. It was easy to tell what was within his comfort zone and what left the creature utterly terrified. The latter usually only occurring when his ring tailed friend left his side for too long.   
But Rocket… Rocket was a closed book. Actually, Rocket was a closed book glued shut and tossed in some impenetrable safe. The closest anyone had ever gotten to getting a glimpse of the raccoon’s psyche was during his drunken rant back on Knowhere, an experience no one dared to bring up again.  
Peter had managed to get his hands on a couple of files back on Xandar after the crash, hoping to look more into who he was working with at this point, and the images and terminology he had found in ‘89P13’s’ file had left he man sick to his stomach.  
Rocket’s past had been something no one had ever tried to approach, and he knew now why the smallest Guardian had never stayed around long enough to be asked.  
He was scared. Terrified of the thought that the Guardians would turn their backs on him were he to ever screw up. Although if that was what they were judging this on then the others would have had the reason to kick Peter’s ass off the ship long ago.  
Peter arched his neck, trying to get Rocket’s attention back on him. Tears were streaming freely from his eyes as the raccoon continued to avoid Peter’s gaze, whispering another apology as his knees buckled together. He was humiliated by the whole ordeal. Peter was ruining the illusion and had seen straight through him. It hadn’t even been more than two months and already, one of the others had caught him while out of character.  
The man swallowed harshly. Why was he apologizing? Did he really not trust his team enough not to pin this against him.  
Then it hit him.  
Rocket didn’t trust him. Besides Groot, everyone in Rocket’s life had hurt him, so why should he expect the occupants of the Milano to be any different?  
He didn’t even know he had begun to move again until Rocket let out a strangled grunt, whining tiredly as Peter gathered the furred creature in his arms. “No. Peter, put me down.”  
“Rocket, you need to calm down bud. Let’ get you cleaned up okay?” He said in a slightly lowered tone, trying to calm the weakly struggling raccoon by stroking a hand down the creature’s spine.  
“What? No. Just let me go, I left Groot alone, he needs water, I have to go back and-“ Rocket was on the verge of panicking now.  
“Groot’s fine, Rocket. He can handle a few more minutes alone.” Peter responded, finally approaching the bathroom. He bit his lip as Rocket’s struggles intensified, piercing through the man’s sleep-shirt with sharp claws as Peter fumbled for the light switch.  
The room was suddenly alight, the tub in particular catching his eye as Peter closed the door behind him. If anything good came out of Nova’s renovation, it was certainly the second bathroom. He would gladly take sleeping in the same room as Drax the Destroyer for the rest of his life over going back to the single half-bath he had before.  
He walked over to the tub and turned on the faucet, placing Rocket down on the rim as it began to fill with warm water.  
The raccoon had ceased in his struggling, instead taking to standing awkwardly on the tub’s edge, eyeing the door longingly and pulling nervously at the edge of his shirt. “You okay buddy?” Peter finally asked, knowing full well the complete awkwardness of the situation, especially for a guy who held to his pride so tightly.  
The ring-tail shook his head, his gaze still refusing to meet the man’s. “I-I left him. I told him I would be right back and I have to go back… I’m sorry, I didn’t-“  
“Rocket, you’ve gotta stop apologizing man, you didn’t do anything wrong okay?” No answer. “Do you want me to go get Groot?”  
Rocket’s ears perked up slightly at the idea, his head nodding nervously as his eyes moved from the door to the rising water on his opposite side.  
“Okay, I’ll be right back okay? I’ll bring you some new clothes too.”  
Rocket didn’t answer but he took it as an agreement before standing back up again, giving the raccoon one last glance before opening the door and stepping out again into the darkness of the hallway.  
Groot was easy to find once he got to Rocket’s room. The little guy had fallen into a sound sleep underneath the orange light of a sunlamp and even as Peter’s hands wrapped around the pot, the sapling showed no signs of waking.  
“Peter?”  
He almost tipped over his own feet on the way back to the bathroom when Gamora’s tired voice caught his attention. She was rolled over on the couch, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she squinted in the darkness. “What are you doing?”  
He only shook his head, making sure to keep his voice low. “Just helping Rocket out with something, go back to sleep.” The ex-assassin needed no more direction, giving him an understanding nod before letting her eyes fall closed again, pulling the blanket up to her chin.  
To his surprise, Rocket was still in the bathroom when Peter got back, having stripped down completely, his clothes tossed somewhere off to the side and a fluffy white towel draped over his body as he continued to stare into the water like he had before the man had left. His ears swiveled slightly when he heard the door open again, turning slowly to face Peter as he came back into the room. “Groot?”  
Peter only nodded, slightly worried by the raccoon’s suddenly limited vocabulary. “Yeah, I’ve got him. He’s asleep though so you’ve gotta be careful.” He felt like he was talking to a child, and Rocket seemed to have picked up on it too.  
“I know, I’m not gonna kill ‘im again, I just wanted to make sure he hadn’t shattered his pot or something.” He said quietly, reaching up to stroke Groot’s sleeping figure before pulling back again and gesturing for Peter to place him down on the counter. It seemed as though simply the presence of Groot was enough to bring back some of his usual snark, but there was part of the sentence that still set the taller Guardian on edge.  
“Again?”  
Rocket’s face fell, ears pressing back to his head and eyes snapping to the water. “Nothing.” He muttered, eyeing he man warily before letting the towel drop.  
Peter had almost rolled his eyes at the motion. The guy was covered in fur and based on how most animal anatomy worked, he knew there was nothing for Rocket to have been looking at. That is until he remembered the implants. He had only gotten a glimpse of the metal augmentations at the Kyln, but now, as Rocket moved uncomfortably under his gaze, he saw just how drastic of measures the scientists had gone to create their perfect subject.  
Sensing the tension, Rocket gave a half-hearted smile. “You think that’s bad, you should have seen me with my arms amputated. Don’t think any of the new recruits had been able to keep their lunch down after that one.”  
Peter’s stomach churned. He couldn’t’ tell if he was being serious or not. “What?” Was all he had managed to get out.  
“Something about better coordination or something, these things are almost completely cybernetic, never got to my legs though, like I said, half the bastards couldn’t even handle their first operation.” He answered, holing out his hand and flexing his fingers as though to prove a point.  
Peter frowned. Why was Rocket telling him this?  
The raccoon let out a hiss of discomfort as he lowered himself into the water, reaching for the soap bar beside him and leaving a trail of bubbles over the fur lining his mechanical arms. He knew it was his imagination, but Peter could have sword that he could hear the gears turning as his elbows bent.  
He was glad that he had finally gotten a sober Rocket to let him in on part of his past, however gruesome it was, but it confused him nonetheless. Why, after all that had happened this night, having been pushed away by the reclusive raccoon, did Rocket now decide to talk?  
He watched Rocket as he finished washing his second arm, using the bubbles that had gathered on his palms and scrubbing furiously at the tearstained fur on his face. Was he trying to hide something else?  
“Quill.”  
Peter’s eyes widened at the sound of his name, gaze shooing up to see that Rocket was holding out the bar of soap towards him. “I can’t get my back.”  
Peter only nodded, taking note of Rocket’s uncomfortably hunched form before taking the soap in his own hand. He flinched slightly when the raccoon let out a startled hiss, wincing under Peter’s soapy palm. “Sorry.” He muttered softly, making sure to avoid letting the bubbles slip into the augmentations. On the creature’s back. “Did it hurt?”  
Rocket’s expression changed into one of confusion, which looked quite comical with soap bubbles moving down to form a foamy beard at his chin. “What? No, just not used to people touching me there.”  
“No, I meant the, uh… never mind.”  
Peter bit his tongue as Rocket began to catch on, his body stiffening and his thin bottom lip being almost torn to shreds as he gnawed on it with sharp teeth. “Y-yeah. They didn’t much believe in anesthetics if you know what I mean. I felt everything.”  
Quill nodded, cupping his hands and pouring the water over Rocket’s shoulders, letting the suds drip from his partner’s fur. “Your nightmares?” He knew he should have stopped there. But he had already gotten so much out of the usually closed off Guardian, he figured he might as well take advantage of the situation.  
And to his surprise, Rocket complied, his head bobbing up and down slightly as he nodded, letting himself slump further into the tub as Peter continued to rinse his fur. “Most of the time.”  
He paused at that. There was more. This had to be a trick, no way was Rocket going to give away all of his secrets so easily, no matter how tired or drunk he was, although he was pretty sure by the general lack of explosions that the raccoon was sober. So why? Why tell him all of this?  
Unless he wanted to.  
Unless Rocket wanted to get some of whatever thoughts he had bottled up inside of him, out and off his chest. He just didn’t know how. Didn’t know how to express himself or even accept the fact that he had grown to rust someone other than the sleeping sapling on the bathroom counter.  
Trying to keep his anticipation under wraps, Peter continued, deciding to test his theory by asking another question.  
“What was it this time?”  
Rocket let out a shuddering breath, only confirming Peter’s thoughts when he saw the ripples in the water as more tears dripped from his already soaked fur. Although Rocket’s back was facing him, Peter hadn’t missed the fact that Rocket’s gaze had flickered to the white flowerpot to their right before he opened his mouth to speak, his voice sounding suddenly strained.  
“I killed Groot. For real this time.”  
Of course. How could he not have figured that out before? The way Rocket had been even less willing to allow Groot out of his sight than usual. How he had refused to allow anyone to even touch the pot while the sapling had been dormant back on Xandar after the crash.  
“Rocket, that wasn’t your fault.”  
“I crashed the ship Quill. I didn’t even think. I was just- I forgot he could still get hurt I guess.”  
“Rocket, you saved our asses out there. And Groot is back, you got him all fixed up with that kick-ass pot and everything.” He stated, gesturing towards the sleeping figure with one hand. “You knew to grow him back and now he’s happy as ever. Rocket, you-“  
“I didn’t know he would grow back.”  
Peter stopped midsentence, frowning down at Rocket, who still refused to look him in the eye. “What?”  
“I panicked.” Rocket said, shrugging halfheartedly. “I just lost the only person who had ever cared about me and I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know he would come back and I… I lost him Quill. Even when he did start growing again I didn’t know if it would be the same Groot. Or- or if it would be someone else. I always knew that he didn’t need me like I needed him, but I never thought it could have hurt him like I did… If I hadn’t met him, he’d still okay.”  
Peter felt like he had just been punched in the stomach, his eyes widening as Rocket continued to practically pour his heart and soul out for the man to see. “But he is okay, look at him. He’s growing back.” He said, finally regaining his voice.  
“You know what I mean Quill.”  
He nodded solemnly. He wanted to grab Rocket by the shoulders again, flipping him around to face him and persuade the self-loathing Guardian he wasn’t to blame for what had happened back on Xandar. But all he could do was nod. He knew Rocket would never accept it.  
The creature was too stubborn, too trapped in his own state of thinking because that was all he had been left to all his life. When the raccoon didn’t trust anyone else, he trusted himself and his own racing (and often irrational) thoughts, even when he was wrong. Because he had no one to ever tell him otherwise. No one to tell him that just maybe, he had to allow someone else to do the thinking for a while.  
But he had never been given that chance. Had never found someone that would tell the raccoon that he was wrong. And Peter knew he would never listen, even if the prideful ringtail did decide to comply, he was still pone to falling back into his old ways. So Peter decided to meet him halfway, letting out a sigh of disagreement before pursing his lips tightly.  
“Yeah, I know.”  
Rocket seemed almost comforted by this, letting his head slump forward as more tears rolled through the wet fur, gathering with the water droplets clutching to his pelt and dripping off of his nose. He let out a startled noise when white cloth suddenly blocked is vision, the towel wrapping around his soaked form and pulling him from the tub.  
“Agh, Quill, put me down, you know I hate being picked up!” He growled, swiping warningly at the air. He scowled at the sound of Peter’s chuckle and practically tore the towel from his head the moment his feet touched the slippery floor. Which only made the man laugh harder at the sight of Rocket’s fur fluffing out comically.  
The raccoon’s only response was to roll his eyes at the man-child in front of him. But despite the laughing spell Peter had put himself under, he couldn’t help but realize that the gut wrenching pain of embarrassment and fear he had been feeling only moments before, had disappeared.  
The laughing stopped the moment Peter noticed Rocket’s confused expression, the raccoon’s bottom lip was tucked under sharp canines again and his fluffy brows ere knit together in an almost distraught appearance. “You okay Rocky?”  
He nodded, blatantly ignoring the Terran’s chosen nickname of the week. “Yeah… yeah I’m fine.” He moved to pick up the folded up clothes that Quill had brought him, pulling on the loose pants. He knew Peter didn’t bring him a shirt for a reason. Being that he wanted to simply test how Rocket would react to having less of a choice between walking barebacked or shrugging on his dirtied shirt from earlier. And he knew he should probably have been angry at the man for forcing him into such a situation.  
But the most he could really muster up what a nervous side-glace as Peter tried his best to avoid his gaze. No because he was tired (although his lack of energy was certainly a contributing factor) but because he simply found no reason to. Quill had seen his augmentations already, hell, he had just let the man in on a sob story about his fully cybernetic limbs. Why should he be worried?  
“Could you grab Groot for me?” He asked, gesturing to the pot with one hand and reaching up and above his head to reach the door handle with the other.  
Peter nodded, leaping to his feet and taking Groot’s white pot in his cupped hands, following the raccoon out into the hallway and back towards his quarters. He paused when Rocket’s walking came to an abrupt halt, staring at the dark room with a look of distrust. As though the darkness would consume him entirely were he to take a step further. He didn’t miss the quick glance Rocket gave towards the sleeping sapling, but elected not to bring it up, instead taking to move inside the room on his own, flicking on the lights and watching the room come better into focus.  
Rocket’s mattress was in tatters and there were still traces of the raccoon’s accident on the torn surface. His lip curled up in a disgusted snarl, frowning when the feeling in is gut came back.  
“Rocket.”  
He looked up to face Quill as the man ushered him back out of the room, turning off the lights and closing the door behind them. “Follow me.”  
…  
Groot didn’t know how long Rocket had disappeared for, or how he had been transferred from the nightstand in his room to the mattress of Peter’s, but a bright smile stretched across is face nonetheless.  
He let out a happy hum as he looked down on his best friend, sleeping soundly with his body curled tightly around the flower pot, tail coming up to droop lazily around Groot’s base where his roots met the soil. His eyes were moving under closed lids, but for once, the creature wasn’t shivering or twitching uncomfortably under the influence of torturous nightmares. Instead, he lay calmly in the arms of the Starlord himself, pressing his bare back into the man’s chest as a large hand rested just above his ears.  
Peter continued to stroke Rocket’s fur lazily, dozing off tiredly himself as the night wore on. Groot let out a quiet coo, reaching down with his own reforming hand to pat Rocket’s snout, smiling again when the raccoon pressed further into the pressure.  
For as long as Groot had known him, Rocket had refused to open up to anyone, including the Flora Colossus himself in extreme measures, always wanting to let someone else in, but always afraid they would wait for him to turn his gaze to stab him in the back.  
But as he looked down on the darkened figures on the mattress, both snoring contently, he couldn’t help but wonder it Rocket was ready to trust again.


	4. Protection and Redemption

Whiskey, gambling, drunks who didn’t know how to hold their wallet’s properly, what was left to desire? Rocket let out a loud whoop of delight as one of the other small reptilian creatures was devoured by the large beast inside the ring, almost spilling his drink as he gave way to a drunken state. He didn’t know what was in that blue stuff he had been downing for the past hour, but he knew he needed more if he was going to have any fun tonight.  
Now that wasn’t to say he didn’t like escaping one of the most heavily guarded prisons and traveling halfway across the galaxy with some four-billion unit rock, he liked it just as much as the next guy, but something about the whole situation had him feeling very uneasy.  
Maybe it was the fact that the only other one after this stupid rock was a crazed maniac who wanted to destroy the universe as they knew it, but then again, when didn’t he face that threat? No, the thing that left the ring-tail feeling unnerved wasn’t the threat a hand, but who he faced it with. Ever since his life outside the labs had begun, he couldn’t recall a time where he and Groot were ever more than just that. Rocket and Groot against the galaxy, it had a nice ring to it.  
And although the two had often times picked up a few partners during a specifically tough or high paying bounty, it never lasted long. And it was because of this that the other three idiots he and the tree had tagged along with for the ride had left him a little nervous.  
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to have an actual team, he had had a pretty good group years ago in fact, but his damned temper always proved stronger than any bond he could possibly hope to keep, with the exception of Groot of course, who seemed to never leave his smaller friend’s side even now as he looked wordily at the gambling table, looking as though he were going to be sick at the sight of such a brutal display.  
Rocket hated how easy it was for him to lose control to his bottled up rage, but it wasn’t like he didn’t have a reason to shove a gun up someone’s nose and shoot, hell, he had plenty of reason to shoot just about everyone in this bar with the way everyone looked at him, you’d think a planet with such backwater species would be more open minded to a talking raccoon or whatever it was Quill had insisted he was.  
And it was probably because of that mindset that had set him off again tonight. Rocket had decided he needed another glass of that tingly blue stuff that made his head numb after having drained the last few drops from the bottom of the cup and tottered off the stool. “Watch my spot and don’t bet on anything while I’m gone!” He said, trying to shout over the commotion of the bar. Groot nodded firmly, looking at the empty glass and giving his friend a worried glance.  
Rocket knew Groot hated it when he drank, but with all that was going on right now with the freaking stone still stuck in Stardork’s purse and being chased by that Kree maniac, he really didn’t see any harm in indulging in a little bit of fun while he could. “This is my last one.” He promised, holding the glass up as though to prove his point, giving Groot a toothy grin when the large tree hummed in appreciation. “Want me ta get you anything?” He already knew the answer and wasn’t all that surprised when his friend held up his own half-filled glass of that sweet fruity drink he liked so much, playing with the little pink umbrella that stuck out the top.  
Rocket nodded, chuckling at the sight before turning on a heel and heading over to the bar counter again. “One of those!” He shouted, pointing sluggishly towards the blue bottle behind the bar. The tender seemed startled by the sudden appearance of his new customer, but said nothing as he turned around to grasp the neck of the bottle in his hand, pouring it into the glass that the raccoon had practically slammed onto the counter.  
Rocket didn’t even count the money as he shoved a few silver units onto the table, he was about to be a billion units richer, after today and the poor sap looked like he could use the extra cash at this point. He smiled at the thought. With the money they were about to get from that orb thing, he could finally live the life of luxury he deserved, maybe get a new ship with a nice sunroom for Groot.  
It had always been something the two had joked about, getting stupid rich and travelling the galaxy, but never in a million years had he ever thought it might actually happen.  
“Small beast!” Rocket’s brow furrowed as the metaphorically challenged giant made his way through the crowd, holding a sack of what he could only guess to be units in his large hands. “Look at the size of my winnings!” He shouted loudly, holding out the bag and showing it to the buzzed ring-tail.  
Rocket frowned at the man. To be honest, the only one in their little band of misfits who had even tried talking to him throughout their journey across the galaxy was Quill, neither Gamora nor Drax had even approached him while on the Milano and something about the whole situation just sat with him wrong, he blamed the alcohol.  
“Nice job big guy. What’re ya gonna put it towards? A new wig?” He replied snarkily. He knew it wasn’t his best retort, but with however many drinks there were in Rocket’s system, making his mind swim, he couldn’t really find himself able to care enough to come up with anything better.  
Not that it mattered much to the man as he frowned in an almost pouting expression, running a large hand over the crown of his head as though offended by the comment. “No, I keep my hair cut in order to show the tattoos that mark my skin. The money I have received will be going towards another drink now and weapons to fight Ronan with in the future.” He said flatly, nodding to the bartender and tossing a few of his own silver pieces to the yellow skinned man at the other side of the counter who filled a tall glass of whiskey in return.  
Rocket only snickered, poking at one of the red lines that trailed the large man’s arm sluggishly. “Why? If I had tattoos that stupid I’d use that money to get them lasered off. That teenage punk phase hit ya hard didn’t it?” He said, laughing into his glass at his own joke. Or at least he was laughing until said glass was practically smacked from his hands and to the floor where it shattered loudly. “What the hell man?” He shouted, glaring at the floor where the expensive blue liquid pooled.  
“You are not one to speak with such disrespect to me rodent!” Drax’s once jovial shout turned quickly to one of rage as he stood from his bar stool. “These are markings of an honorable warrior and of a man who has lost more in this world than one should. How dare you speak this way to me!”  
Rocket was startled to say the least and he certainly didn’t like the way Drax was staring at him now with his extra height advantage. However, as much as he knew it was a bad idea to allow that damned pride to get in the way of it all, he couldn’t seem to keep his damned mouth shut as he took a stand on his own stool, glaring daggers at the man. No one called him ‘rodent’ without getting at least a broken rib out of it, although seeing as though Drax’s stature added to his advantage over the raging raccoon, he would settle with a few good scrapes to the face with his long claws.  
“An honorable warrior huh? Listen tough guy, the only reason you’re not still in prison missing out on your chances of finishing your suicidal revenge plot is because of me! If you were just as reckless before you got those flarkin markings as you are now then it’s no wonder you lost everything!”  
His breath hitched in the back of Rocket’s throat. Too far! Too far! Idiot, can’t even tell when to shut my flarkin mouth!   
His face fell and he could feel his stomach plummet as Drax’s jaw clenched, his eyes practically turning red with rage. And before he knew it, Rocket’s feet were no longer on a solid surface and the back of his neck ached intensely.  
Drax was holding him by the scruff of his neck now, shaking him like an animal that had done something wrong. Rocket squirmed and shouted angrily. He hated this position, the scientists back at the facility had figured out rather quickly that the raccoon was rather immobilized when brought up by the base of his spinal cord, and it seemed as though Drax had no problem taking advantage of the same weakness.  
“You have no understanding in what I have been through for my family and you have no right to dare speak of them with such disrespect. You have never understood the meaning of a family because you are no more than vermin. Why should I have lost them when there are useless mistakes of science such as yourself to take their place? You are filth and meaningless and have deserved every ounce of pain you have ever experienced in your short lifetime. The only reason I have refrained from removing your spinal cord entirely is because you are undeserving of such an honorable death you filth-“  
And just like that, he was dropped to the hard floor, his swimming head hitting the ground hard as his paralyzed limbs failed to prepare for impact, not that he would have tried to catch himself anyway, Drax was right. However, pain and anger registered differently in the drunken animal’s mind, especially when Groot’s angry shout made the fur on the back of his neck stand on end.  
He picked himself up quickly, looking over to where Groot had tackled Drax, pinning the large beastly man to the floor and entangling his arms in vines, shrieking loudly all the way.  
Everything had happened so quickly after that. Rocket had pulled out his gun from where it was latched to his shoulders, pointing it directly at Drax as he managed to throw Groot off of himself when Quill and Gamora had finally made themselves present. And he was secretly glad for it too, were Quill not there to calm him out of his self-loathing and drunken state, Drax would have been no more than a pile of bloodied limbs on the bar floor.  
Although he had hated allowing himself to rant furiously about how much he regretted his own making, he was glad he hadn’t blown the man’s head clean off. Of course, this opportunity only allowed him the next words to come out of his mouth. “Oh boo hoo! My wife and child are dead!”  
Rocket had never forgiven himself for those words, and he had assumed that Drax hadn’t either which was why he was horribly mortified when the man approached him after the crash. There he was, sitting, collapsed in on himself with that damned twig clutched to his chest and bawling his eyes out, open and deserving of an angry comment about ‘dead people,’ and what does he do? He sits down right next to the sobbing creature and comforts him, as though he deserved that.  
Nevertheless, Rocket accepted it, finally allowing the weight of everything to come down upon him and crying harder than he ever had in the labs, because losing Groot was the worst pain he had ever experienced and nothing would change that. Even when the twig was shoved into a pot and grew a pair of arms that seemed to never stop swaying, Rocket still doubted himself.  
…  
Rocket sat at the metal table that Quill had placed in the cockpit, his chin just barely reaching the ledge of the thing due to his height difference and his refusal to use a booster seat as the taller man had once suggested. Usually, his small stature didn’t bother him all that much, mostly because he had the hulking giant of a tree man to climb up and perch himself on.  
The one thing he had been quick to realize after that large figure had disappeared was than many people don’t like to take the time to glance downward. He couldn’t even count how many times someone had stepped heavily on his sensitive tail or just tripped over the creature altogether. It was humiliating for one, but it also brought to realization just how much he had taken for granted not only Groot’s height, but his compliance to do so as well.  
It wasn’t like any of the other Guardians would have reacted horribly to having their smaller teammate clamber onto their own shoulders, allowing him some breathing room away from the trampling feet below hem that were clearly set on turning the ring tail into a street pancake, but it was embarrassing all the same.  
It had seemed more natural with Groot, in fact, the reason he couldn’t recall ever having climbed the large creature all that much in the first place was probably because Groot found the situation just as natural, sometimes even being the one to initiate the movement to place his smaller friend up on his shoulders to make sure Rocket wasn’t crushed beneath the feet of the inattentive bystanders in the streets.  
In fact, that seemed to be a reoccurring thought process when it came to the Flora Colossus, protection. It was something that was much more obvious for the remaining three Guardians to notice about the two. The way the two had never seemed to leave each other’s sides and the almost unnerving paranoia that occurred when they weren’t at least within the line of sight of each other. Hell, Rocket felt like he was going to implode entirely when having to act out Quill’s goddam twelve percent of a plan on his own, leaving Groot to take matters into his own hands on board the Dark Aster. And who could really blame him? The idiot almost got himself killed trying to wrap the others in a freaking Groot cocoon.  
Although it was painfully obvious to the others that Groot was a naturally protective being, always one step behind the raccoon when he wasn’t perched on his broad shoulders, Rocket hardly noticed just how protective the larger being was. In fact, he found constantly being picked up or petted by the wooden man completely comforting, not that he wouldn’t hesitate to snap his teeth at anyone else who tried to do so, but as he curled up on the giant’s chest and fell asleep at night, cradled by Groot’s comforting embrace and listening to the low hum he sang to try and keep away the nightmares, he didn’t give it a second thought.  
Although it wasn’t until now, as he sat at the frustratingly tall table, staring at the dancing twig in a pot that it all had come crashing down on him. Groot had always been there to protect him, to block the raining bullets with his own body, having lost who knows how many limbs shielding the raccoon from an alarmingly amount of explosions. Rocket had never even thought twice about it, to him, the moving tree was practically immortal, he had seen things done to his friend that would have killed an ordinary man in an instant, walking it off as though the smoking hole through his chest was no more than a slight discomfort, instead leaping up onto his feet and racing to Rocket’s side to make sure he was okay.  
And it wasn’t to say that Rocket was never worried about the giant idiot. The first time he had witnessed the potential of Groot’s protective tendencies, he thought he was about to have a heart attack. He couldn’t handle loosing Groot, not now, even in the beginning of their friendship, Groot had already done so much for him and watching as Groot’s arm was torn from him entirely in blocking a stray grenade from hitting his more breakable compatriot was absolutely terrifying.  
It wasn’t until Groot’s remaining hands wrapped around him, brushing through his fur and cooing comfortingly in a low worried tone, using his regenerative ability to the fastest he could muster to grow the disembodied limb back that Rocket had finally calmed. He still shuddered at the memory, having sat there in Groot’s lap with tears spilling faster than he could have cared to stop, staring with a shaky gaze as the vines intertwines to form another arm that soon joined the other in brushing through the raccoon’s fur comfortingly.  
But, over the years spent together, he had become so accustomed to the extent of Groot’s healing factor, having witnessed many times after as his friend continued to take the bullet for him, often times in a literal sense. So accustomed that the thought of Groot actually dying seemed damned near impossible. That is until the crash.  
Rocket felt a shudder run up his spine, a sudden sinking feeling filling his stomach as he turned quickly from the dancing sapling and towards the table that had seemed to have offended him with its enormous height, anything to repress the memory.  
He hated it. Hated just how weak he had been that day. Of course, he had to have been the one to cause the crash, allowing his rage after watching Saal die take over. Then again, that had always been his problem, letting the rage fuel his actions to the point where those he cared about had to face the consequences.  
He had meant it back on Knowhere when he had admitted to the others having been his only friends and although he would never have said it to their faces lest any of them get the idea he was open to those weird cuddle fests Quill was constantly trying to initiate, it scared him to think that any of them could leave him.  
He didn’t remember that much after having drove his ‘borrowed’ Ravanger ship into the Aster’s front window, he figured he had passed out on impact. What he did remember however was the comforting sense of protection as Groot’s vines encircled him, growing leaves hat tickled his nose and releasing the glowing spores that illuminated the cocoon with a dim yet comforting light. He remembered the gut wrenching feeling of opening his eyes to see everyone surrounding him, all staring in awe as the cocoon continued to grow in size. He remembered leaping to his feet and shouting for Groot to stop. Remembered the tendril that reached down to brush the tears from his fur. Remembered those words.  
We are Groot.  
“Rocket.”  
“Huh?” His head snapped up, almost hitting his nose on the ledge of the table as he was broken out of his trance.  
Both Quill and Drax were staring at him with worried glances. “You okay man? You’ve been zoning out like that for quite a while now.”  
Rocket nodded weakly, refusing to look anyone in the eye now that everyone had brought their attention to him, including the beaming sapling on the table in front of him. To be honest, he was exhausted, it had been almost two weeks since the team had taken off of Xandar and he couldn’t recall the last time he had actually fallen asleep in his own room. If anything, he was usually passed out on the couch, much to Gamora’s disapproval as she had claimed that as her own sleeping area, or in one of the chairs set up in the cockpit, often times waking up with a blanket placed carefully over his curled up body that one of the others had draped over him in the night.  
Other times he simply didn’t sleep, taking to holding the dozing Groot close to him as he tried to rig up another sunlamp, pouring water into the soft soil that he had originally shoved the once lifeless stick into. He was terrified. What if something happened to him? He didn’t know how to take care of a child, much less a flora colossus child. What if he didn’t give him enough water? Or too much water? What if the sunlamp wasn’t enough to keep him from simply wilting away? What if he dropped the freaking pot? What if it wasn’t Groot?  
He shook his head furiously. He couldn’t afford to think like that, not now that the sapling depended on him. But the thought never left the back of his mind. What if it wasn’t Groot? What if this dancing twig was no more than a new form of life only growing due to the raccoon’s inability to lose his best friend, holding no memory of who the furry creature taking care of it even was?  
“Okay, you’ve just seemed kind of out of it lately.” Quill continued, making his way over to the table and sitting in the chair opposite of the raccoon. You know, you can always take a break from Groot-sitting for a while, the rest of us can take over if you want to go get some rest.”  
Rocket frowned, shaking his head hesitantly, eyes flickering to the sapling in question. As tempting as it sounded to trust the others with taking care of baby Groot, he couldn’t just leave him like that. He couldn’t remember a time where Groot had ever left his side and he was going to return the favor. “No, ‘m fine.” He managed. He knew they were all worried about him, and he couldn’t blame them, he had distanced himself immensely while waiting for the sapling to make some indication that he was, in fact, Groot, but he couldn’t risk it now, not after all he had gone through.  
“I’ve got first watch anyway so no use in sleeping.” He felt guilty as Peter’s smile dropped, his lips pursing into a frustrated frown before pushing himself back to his feet.  
“Okay, but just ask if you want to leave your shift on Groot-watch for a while too alright?” He asked, gesturing to the sapling that had gone back to dancing to the music coming from Quill’s blasted tape player. Rocket nodded halfheartedly, although it was obvious that Quill wasn’t convinced. He didn’t press it anymore however, simply giving his smaller friend a hopeful smile and turning on a heel to head to his own quarters.  
…  
He hadn’t remembered falling asleep at any point, but judging by the fact that he had awoken in Drax’s strong hold, most likely carrying him to his own room, he could only guess that he had passed out sometime during his watch. He knew he should probably have tried struggling out of the hold, at least giving the man a good swipe with his nails for even trying to pick him up like some child but he simply couldn’t find the strength to do so. In all honesty, the warm embrace he was held in was entirely comfortable, the most comfortable he had been in weeks since his original wooden sleeping surface had been blown to bits. He curled up further, pressing his nose into the crook of Drax’s elbow and listening to the rhythm of the man’s footfalls as he continued down the hallway with the raccoon in hand.  
Drax must have realized Rocket had awoken because he began to speak in a low voice. “You fell asleep during your watch, I believe you will be far more comfortable in your own bed than in those horribly padded chairs Quill had insisted on installing.” He said, taking the chance of using his free hand to rake his fingers through the ring-tail’s coarse fur, receiving a tired purr in response. Rocket knew in the back of his mind that this should not be comfortable, that he was supposed to be strong and angry and threatening, but as the hand continued to stroke his fur, he couldn’t help but give into it all, smiling slightly as the warm sense of comfort that he hadn’t felt since Groot’s sacrifice settled in again.  
Groot.  
His eyes snapped open, the comforting feeling suddenly giving way to panic as he bolted upright, almost falling out of Drax’s arms altogether were the man not to live up to his claim in having fast reflexes. “Where’s Groot?” He slurred, his exhausted body still trying to catch up with his racing mind. His eyes flickered from side to side as though the white pot would be hidden in the hallway.  
Drax stared back in absolute bewilderment, brow drawn low and mouth hanging slightly ajar before finally answering. “I left him back in the cockpit, I am going back during my shift, I will care for him, do not worry yourself.”  
But Rocket wasn’t listening, instead trying to kick himself out of Drax’s arms, the once comforting cradle suddenly feeling like a horrible restraint as the man only held him tighter. “No, I have to go back and get him, he can’t be left alone.” He tried reasoning, squirming furiously to no prevail.  
“I have told you I will be returning to our growing friend soon, you need to calm yourself.” Drax responded, his voice full of confusion and worry as he began to walk again, pushing open Rocket’s door open with his shoulder and placing him down on the bed.  
Not that it did much to calm the now frantic creature as Rocket launched himself off of the mattress the moment he was released from Drax’s arms, making for the door. He had to get Groot, he was alone out there. What if he fell off the dashboard? What if his pot broke and he was left struggling in the shards of clay? What if he needed Rocket?  
His path to the front of the ship however was cut off as Drax kicked the door closed with his foot, pressing his back up against the thing to keep Rocket from opening it again. “Get out of my way Drax.” He growled, pushing up against his leg and trying to pry the man from the door.  
“I will not be moved until you agree to sleep, I know you have overworked yourself ever since Xandar, and have not seen you eat or sleep for as long as Groot is with you.” Drax tried reasoning, looking down at the raccoon, crossing his arms across his chest and widening his stance that much further, only sending Rocket into another fit of rage.  
“And why’s it suddenly your business whether I sleep or not Drax, and I sure as hell ain’t sleeping with you in here, that’s just creepy.”  
“You seemed to have slept fine when I carried you here.”  
Rocket gritted his teeth and clenched his fists at his sides. “That doesn’t count okay? Just lemme go get him, I promise I’ll go to sleep as soon as I make sure he’s okay.”  
Drax frowned again, looking at the raccoon with a look of worry as he continued to stare at the door as though the thing would burst open on its own. “The tree is fine, the sooner you comply, the sooner I can return to the deck to keep watch for myself. You can trust me to make sure our friend is safe and taken care of.”  
“NO! Drax you don’t understand, I need to be there. I need to be with him or he might not remember me!”  
“W-what?” Drax stepped forward, trying to grasp the creature by his shoulders.  
Suddenly, the leg blocking his path to the door was gone and he was running to grab the handle, shaking off the hand that tried to grab the back of his jumpsuit and taking down the hallway, not caring that he had automatically fallen to all fours to carry him all that much faster towards the cockpit, towards the sleeping sapling in the unbroken white pot that sat upon the dashboard of the control panel.  
His hands shook slightly as he grabbed for the pot, pulling it down into his own embrace, careful not to wake the sapling as he fell to his rear, setting it carefully in his lap and looking over the slumbering twig for anything that may have gone wrong during his absence. He was so invested in counting the little green leaves that had begun to take shape atop Groot’s head that he hardly noticed Drax had followed him from his room until a large hand grasped his shoulder.  
“Rocket, I fear this attachment you have with our regrown friend is unhealthy for your mental state.” He observed, reaching over to gently pull the pot from Rocket’s lap. But his hands clamped that much tighter around the edge of the clay, pulling it further into his chest and wrapping his tail around the base as though the otherwise useless appendage would somehow provide more protection from the attacking hand. “Rocket, you need to-“  
“I’m fine Drax, I’ll go to sleep now. I just- Groot needs more water so he doesn’t dry out and then-“  
“Rocket.” His mouth clamped shut as Drax stared down with a worried gaze as Rocket continued to clutch the pot to him as though it were a lifeline. “You can trust me to take care of Groot, I promise you no harm will come to him were you to allow me the night with him.” He tried, this time actually reaching far enough forward to place a hand on the pot, the second hand circling around to drop itself on the raccoon’s shoulder.  
Drax pursed his lips when Rocket shook his head again, raking his nails against the pot, worried the hand placed on the edge would wrench it from his grip. “I-I can’t. It’s not about trusting you with him it- I just can’t lose him again. I mean what if- what if something happens because I wasn’t there?”  
“I understand your need to protect your companion, but-“  
“No! No you don’t understand!” Rocket practically shouted, pulling the pot out of Drax’s reach and shrugging off the hand from his shoulder, encircling the sapling in his own cocoon of fur. “You don’t understand what it’s like to live with all this uncertainty, all this guilt! I mean what if something happens to him because of me? I’ve already gone and blown up his original body, what if I let my guard down again and he dies? Like for real.” He shook his head, trying to get rid of the tears that were building up in his eyes. He had already cried once in front of Drax, as though that weren’t humiliating enough. But as he thought about it more, the harder it became to hold them back. “And he hasn’t even tried to speak yet or show any indication that he even knows us, how am I supposed to know if this is even Groot? I don’t know shit about his species, I don’t know if this is how they reproduce or if this is even the same Groot that I lost in the fire. What if it’s not even him and he doesn’t even know who I am?”  
He really was crying now, sobs racking his entire body as he curled further around the pot, looking bleary eyed at the twig that had somehow stayed asleep throughout Rocket’s rant. “I don’t want to be alone again.” He barely whispered, taking a finger and trailing it down the soft bark of the slumbering sapling’s arm, only sobbing harder when is small hand wrapped instinctively around it. He could have sworn that the thing had been watered with more tears than actual water at this point.  
The shaking creature hardly even reacted when two large hands moved to his midsection, picking up the sobbing ring-tail and placing him squarely in Drax’s lap where he continued to stroke Rocket’s fur, the second hand wrapping around the pot and cupping it for stability. “You will not be alone my friend. Although we have had out differences in the past, I have truly accepted you as one of my new dysfunctional family members.”  
Rocket smirked at this, leaning into the touch of the man’s hand. He knew that in any other circumstance he would have bit his fingers clean off for even trying to initiate such an action, but he knew Drax no longer saw him simply as some stupid talking animal and god, he knew how to get that spot behind his right ear just right, Rocket saw no harm in complying.  
“Right back at ya big guy.” He quipped, allowing himself a small smile before turning back to the pot. “I just wish I could know if it was him or not. I mean I’m not gonna abandon him if it’s not… but I miss him.”  
He could feel Drax move slightly behind him as a low hum of understanding emitted from his throat and he could only guess that the man was nodding solemnly. And for once, Rocket didn’t doubt his understanding. Drax had lost a family already and even after all Rocket had done to anger him, he continued to comfort his smallest team member.   
“I’m sorry.” He finally managed, feeling somewhat awkward in saying the phrase, his back still facing the man. “You know, about everything on Knowhere. I shouldn’t have said all that about your family and honor and all that. I had no right.”  
He stiffened when the hand petting him came to a halt atop his head. “I do not hold you accountable for your actions. I was as much at fault as you in the situation, I had almost gotten us all killed and made the mistake of making you feel like less of a person than I have realized you to be. I will accept your apology only if you accept mine.”  
Rocket chuckled half-heartedly at the sudden seriousness of the situation. “Deal.”  
Drax beamed brightly and allowed his hand to begin stroking the fur again, chuckling slightly when he heard the soft purrs the smaller mammal was trying to keep at bay. “I am glad to have gotten rid of all bad blood between us.”  
He smiled again, although he knew it was nothing that could be helped he found the man’s ways of speaking incredibly amusing. “Yeah, me too.” He admitted, staring at the hand that had held the pot, looking at the red lines that darted about his otherwise pale skin. It must have been incredibly painful getting such markings on your skin. “What do they mean?” He finally asked, unable to hold back his curiosity any longer.  
“What do what mean?”  
“The tattoos.” He pointed out, poking at Drax’s arm. “You said they resemble loss and honor and stuff. How does that work?”  
He heard Drax hum again, moving both hands away and using them to gesture to his exposed torso. Rocket moved from his position to turn around and face the large man, making sure Groot’s pot was still tucked tightly in his grasp.  
“There are four markings all intertwined with one another.” He explained. “This one here was marked the day my daughter Camaria was born and this the day I took her to the forgotten lake.” His hand trailed from his chest to his left arm. “The one here resembles the day my father died.” His stomach. “And this one represents my soul-union with Ovette, she shared the same marking before her death.” He said solemnly. “The rest I have accumulated only over time after their deaths, many marking me as a fighting warrior and the intertwining lines signifying the death of my family. These markings tell my life story.”  
“Oh.” It sounded incredibly pathetic in response to Drax’s equivalent to pouring his heart and soul out, but Rocket really couldn’t think of anything better to say at this point.  
“What does yours mean?”  
“W-what?” Rocket asked in confusion. “Drax, I don’t got any tattoos, if you haven’t noticed, I’m kinda covered in fur. Makes it hard to ink anything.”  
Drax looked almost insulted by the remark. “Yes you do. It is on the inside of your ear here.” He insisted, prodding at Rocket’s right ear and making it fly backwards in irritation. “It says 89P-“  
“I know what it says, Drax.” He snapped. “It doesn’t mean anything though. Not anymore.”  
“What did it used to mean?”  
Rocket shrugged, glaring downward. “That was how they addressed me back where I was made. Nothing but a bunch of letters and numbers. I meant no more than an experiment to them then, and that name means nothing to me now.” He said bitterly.  
“Good.” The raccoon’s head shot up towards the man. “I like ‘Rocket’ much better.”  
“Yeah, me too.” He murmured, giving the man a sideways glance. His hands had yet to leave the edge of the pot, but it soon became obvious to the still rather exhausted guardian that he had allowed his grip to loosen greatly, allowing Drax to pull the clay base into his own lap, hands resting gently around the sides as he continued to move the thing from Rocket. He opened his mouth o retort, calling him out for having taken advantage of his disorientation, but all that seemed to come out was, “You’ll get me when he wakes up right?”  
Drax let his hesitant expression give way to one of contentment, knowing he no longer had to fear the chance of those sharp claws swiping at his as he pulled the pot the rest of the way out of the raccoon’s grasp. He nodded and began to stand up, placing the slumbering sapling back on the dashboard where he had sat before. “You have my word.”  
Groot had always been there to protect Rocket, and there was no way in hell that Rocket wasn’t about to return the favor, even as the unresponsive twig continued to allude him, but one thought that made him smile as he began to tread down the hallway of eh Milano and back into his room, was that maybe he didn’t have to do it alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, reviews are appreciated and feel free to drop a request, I'm always looking for new ideas!


	5. The Looking Glass Effect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter includes mention of suicide

The Looking Glass Effect  
Peter Quill had been abducted from Earth at a young age. And judging by the fact that Ravanger culture was no less than a semi-legal version of the pirates he saw on television when he was a little boy, he had never gotten to a proper psychology class, let alone learned the definition of what it was his teammates were often showing signs of. (Although, the thought of hiring a team psychologist wouldn’t have seemed like such a bad idea had the others not looked like they wanted to tear him limb from limb at the simple suggestion.)  
He knew what anxiety was. Almost all of the Guardians had shown clear signs of that in their own time on board the ship. Gamora’s often ranged from her new team turning on her and sending her straight back to Thanos to her missing sister, Nebula coming back… or not coming back. Honestly Peter couldn’t tell at this point.  
Drax’s however, was quite the opposite. The muscular Drax the Destroyer was once a father, and his fears reflected that greatly. He feared losing his family, losing the teammates he had just begun to bond with. Although it was obvious that the rag-tag team of ex-criminals was the closest that any of them had gotten to a real family in a long time if at all.  
Groot still remained a mystery in terms of the tree man’s background, but the creature’s fears were more obvious than anything. Despite his kind and gentle personality, the flora colossus was an extremely protective being. He had risked his life to protect their team back on Xandar and Peter knew he would do it again if the circumstance required it. However, his gun-toting, ring-tailed friend, was his first priority.  
It was extremely rare to see the two separated, even as a small sapling barely able to remove his roots from the small ceramic pot, there was hardly a moment when Rocket wasn’t holding the container of dirt and bark close to his chest, as though their former roles had suddenly been reversed. Only when the pot had gotten too heavy to carry on his own did Rocket allow one of the other Guardians to carry his friend, and even then, those beady eyes never seemed to leave the carrier, as though the pot would fall straight through their hands.  
However, seeing as the night watch gave Peter far too much time to think on the subject, he realized a drastic difference in the two’s anxieties. While Groot feared for Rocket’s life, he feared more of losing his friend himself more than anything else. Rocket on the other hand, although he refused to admit it, was that he was going to be alone.  
…  
Being drunk had never really ended well for him. Then again, when did getting wasted to any point really prove well for anyone? Not that that stopped him. Rocket still sought out the nearest bars, the closest drink, the bottle in the top cupboard in the kitchen that Quill had tried to keep a secret.  
He had never cared about the consequences. He ignored the burning feeling it left as it slid down his throat, gulped down another swig even after the clear liquid had left a nauseating and acrid taste on his tongue, he could have cared less about the fact that he was going to pass out on the counter until someone found him in the morning to pry the half-empty bottle out of his hands. All he knew was that the foul smelling liquid stopped the pain.  
It numbed every nerve, made him feel lie for that one moment, his entire purpose in life was as simple as finishing off that bottle that was wavering in his bleary vision. Sure, he regretted it in the morning after waking up in some random alleyway after getting plastered as some bar with a skull-splitting headache, but it was a small price to pay for those short moments of unconscious bliss.  
Groot had never liked it when he drank, which was why Rocket made sure to try and pace himself when the big guy was around, but sometimes the pain just leaked through, forcing him to pick up the bottle and raise it to his mouth again. And then they had joined the Guardians, and although he knew their three new partners meant well, they didn’t understand.  
He had fought a green hand in a battle of strength many times within the past few months as Gamora tore the booze from his paws, scolding him harshly about the risks to his health, not that he could ever really hear her through his deafened ears… something about a liver? He didn’t care.  
So, deciding that this new group of his wasn’t about to stop him from getting his fix despite the close watch the others tried to keep on the raccoon, Rocket took to drinking only during his watch, making sure the others were all asleep while he was left alone in the cockpit to watch the autopilot or something (he had never really understood why they took shifts in the first place.) It was then that he had created a new routine for himself. Hold in the pain, the worry and stress, bottle it all up until Quill left his post before fishing out that Xandarian whiskey he had smuggled from the last planet they had landed on.  
It wasn’t as efficient as he had been used to. Usually his plan was to drink whenever it hit. Whenever the staring and the name calling and the nightmares simply became too much (which was admittedly a lot.) And taking his wooden bodyguard with him to the nearest bar. Although his new routine had proven to be of help, at least this way he didn’t have to pay to collapse over on himself in a drunken heap.  
Sometimes he was able to wake himself up before the others and sneak back to his own room in his hung-over state. Other times, it all went to shit.  
He could never really see the point of taking shifts. The Guardians themselves were hardly ever steered the Milano manually, autopilot was always the best way of navigation when it came to travelling the entire galaxy, and to the smallest Guardian, there was nothing more boring than the endless blackness of space, despite Quill’s theory of the ‘raccoon’ liking shiny things. The stars had never caught his attention, how the hell was he supposed to steal a freaking ball of gas? Unless the shiny thing was the glint of oil against the surface of a gun or a flash-bomb going off, nothing really struck Rocket’s interest.  
Then again, the glint of the dim light in the cockpit shining off of the rim of the bottle sitting in front of him was becoming more and more fascinating the longer he stared at it. He raised his head from where it rested on the table top just enough to take another sip from the half-empty container, spilling a few drops onto his suit.  
BEEP  
Being too sluggish in his movements to actually face the sound, his ears became the only appendages to react, swiveling backwards towards the dashboard of the controls.  
BEEP  
“What the hell?”  
BEEP  
“Okay, Okay, I’m up. Whaddaya want?” He called sluggishly, turning bleary-eyed toward the red lights flashing above the dash. He squinted and tilted his head to the side, hoping that just maybe he could get the damned sound to stop from where he sat slumped over in his seat.  
BEEP  
“Dammit.”  
After almost falling out of his seat… or maybe he did fall out of his seat, he really couldn’t remember, he stumbled to the control panel, growling under his breath and plastering his ears to his head when the blaring noise only became louder.  
“The hell is wrong with you?” He asked, staring at the radar system’s panel intently and tapping the moving red dot with a sharp nail. Wait…  
BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPEBEEP-  
The ship rocked onto it side, sending the raccoon to the floor in a heap of liquor stained fur. The only thing that told Rocket that it wasn’t his own drunken imagination was the sound of glass shattering against the floor as his unfinished bottle toppled off of the table.  
BEEP BEEP  
He couldn’t tell now which sound he hated more, the sound of the radar picking up another missile, or the sound of footsteps pounding against the metal floor.  
“Rocket?” Gamora’s voice sounded loudly. Too loudly. A blur of green flashed past his vision as she raced to take hold of the controls of the tilting ship.  
“Wasgoingon?” That was Peter. A very tired Peter by the sound of it. Either that or he was as drunk as Rocket, but seeing as though the collapsed raccoon had been the only one with access to the cabinet, he doubted that it was the latter.  
Rocket felt the ship tilt again, the second blast rattling the Milano as it whizzed past the window, barely missing the thing. He figured by the fact that his head had just struck a wall that he had slid across the floor in his fallen state. “Ambush. We’ve passed into Kree territory.”  
“What ever happened to the peace treaty?”  
Rocket tried to roll onto his stomach to push himself up again when he felt his head hit the wall for a second time.  
“After what happened to Ronan, I doubt there even is a treaty anymore.”  
“Crap, can you get us out of here?”  
The voices were so loud. Rocket raised his hands to clamp over his ears, muffling the voices effectively. His eyes were clenched shut tightly as the Milano continued to twist and turn, but through it all, he was able to make out two additional heavy footfalls as both Groot and Drax finally made it to the upper deck as well as the low groan coming from the lumbering tree as he searched the floor for his missing friend.  
He wasn’t sure exactly how long Gamora was at the controls before the ride leveled out, giving Rocket’s already churning stomach a break, but he was certainly more than grateful for the woman’s evasive know-how when the insistent beeping sound was shut off abruptly. That is until a sound even more horrible filled the ship’s hull. Quill’s voice.  
“Where the hell is Rocket? He was supposed to be keeping watch.”  
“Did he return to your room?” Gamora asked, most likely directed towards Groot although Rocket had yet to open his eyes. A low groan sounded from the tree man as he shook his head, continuing to search the room.   
He was about to open his mouth to speak when he felt a very strong hold around his tail. “I found him.” Drax said triumphantly, his voice echoing in Rocket’s throbbing head. He glared angrily at the tattooed blur that held him and swiped blindly, missing the hands grasping him completely but getting his point across nonetheless. He felt his stomach churn as he was flipped in the air so that he was right side up again, the world spinning around him at an unsettling speed.  
Rocket felt himself stumble for a moment after his feet touched the floor again, glad for the space Drax had allowed him but discouraged by the lack of stability he had at the moment. It wasn’t until after he had settled upon leaning against the wall that had nearly knocked him unconscious that he was finally able to bring himself to look at the others. And, despite how blurry his vision made them out to be at the moment, he was still able to make out every expression on their faces.  
Disappointment.  
Anger.  
Disgust.  
Even Groot had taken to staring at the ground solemnly.  
“Listen, I-“  
“No, you listen, Rocket.” Peter interrupted angrily, taking a step forward and making the smaller Guardian flinch. “This isn’t one you can get out of with a gun, so explain to me, just what the hell you were thinking? You were supposed to be on watch!”  
Rocket scoffed, glaring angrily in what he hoped was Quill’s general direction, he couldn’t really tell at this point. “I was keepin watch.”  
“What? On that bottle of whiskey over there? I swear to God, I could trust you with keeping watch over a rock and you’d still find a way to mess up.”  
“Peter.” But Quill only shook off the green hand that Gamora had placed on his shoulder, turning his glare to her.  
“What? Gamora, come on. Don’t tell me you’re taking his side. We could’ve died because of him!”  
“But we didn’t.” Gamora stated firmly, placing herself in front of the man so that she stood between him and Rocket. “I’m not taking sides, however, I do believe this argument would be better spent at a time where you are both fully awake and sober.”  
Peter only scoffed, rubbing his forehead as though he had a headache. “Yeah, good luck with that. Rocket couldn’t stay sober if his life depended on it.” He didn’t mention the fact that it probably did, although the Guardians hadn’t been a group for very long, it was still obvious that Rocket drank far too much than anyone, especially of Rocket’s species or stature, should be able to ingest without some type of kidney failure coming back to haunt him.  
“Keep ta your own business Starlord.” Rocket snapped, finally feeling the nausea pass. “I can do what I want.”  
Gamora gritted her teeth at that, knowing her involvement would go unnoticed by the two in their increasingly heated conversation.  
In fact, looking at Peter, Rocket thought the man might just pop a vessel in that big head of his as he clenched his own jaw.  
“None of my business? You almost got us all killed because of your carelessness. Do you even think before you go off and get yourself plastered? Or do you really just not care so much that you would risk everyone’s life just so you could drink yourself into a coma.”  
“Piss off Quill.”  
“No!” Peter took another step forward, passing Gamora who’s attempts to hold him back were fruitless as he made his way across the room. “You can get yourself killed if you want, but there’s no reason to take the rest of us with you. If you want to poison yourself with that shit then be my guest, but leave the rest of us out of it.”  
Rocket growled, feeling the muscles in his shoulders and back tense up as he grit his own teeth together. It wasn’t like Quill to ever get angry, and unless someone was in possession of his precious Walkman, he didn’t think Peter could ever even experience the emotion. Which only made the knot in his stomach grow tighter. Not that Rocket was ever very good at expressing his discomfort in any way that wasn’t out right rage.  
Which was probably why he was almost blind to the uncontrollable events that happened next. It felt strange now that he really though about it, like he was giving in completely to the rage, allowing it to control every movement whilst he sat back and simply watched the events unfold in front of him, not really having the energy or the motivation to stop them.  
Even as he found the damned music player that he could have sworn was sitting on the table just a few moments ago in his hands, he allowed his anger to control him.  
“… Rocket.”  
His head snapped up to face Peter, his face suddenly void of all anger and filled with fear as he stared blankly at the tape player. “Rocket, put that down.”  
“When we risked everything getting out of the Kyln, you almost sabotaged the whole plan getting this thing! So don’t talk to me about ‘risking’ anything, Quill.” He shouted back, holding the thing further out of Quill’s reach as he spotted his paced movements toward the device as though to snatch it from the raccoon’s hands.  
“Rocket.” His head snapped to face Gamora. “Put it down.”  
He grit his teeth again, snarling at the woman. “Fine.” He said, opening his hand and letting it fall to the floor.  
Of course, from his height, no harm came to the thing as it clattered to the ground, but the damage was done nonetheless as Peter’s enraged shout filled the room, startling Rocket out of his proud state of mind.   
“That’s it!”  
Rocket hadn’t even begun to process the sound of Quill’s boots stomping loudly against the metal floor of the ship before the hand had clasped itself around his tail. A loud yelp escaped his mouth, a high pitched animalistic bark that he cringed at. Or at least he would have were he not preoccupied by the owner of the hand in particular.  
Peter wasn’t intent on letting go. Instead, he pulled, tearing the raccoon off of his feet and dragging him back into the common area. Rocket shouted in protest as his sharp nails raked across the floor, leaving small grooves in the metal surface before Peter switched motives, moving his hand from the raccoon’s tail and to the collar of his orange jumpsuit, lifting him up and pinning him against the wall opposite to him.  
Rocket continued to kick and shout, cawing tears in the sleeve of Quill’s leather jacket. “Let go of me you idiot! Put me down!” He raged, only pausing in his protests when he caught Peter’s eye. The man’s glare was filled with nothing but pure hatred, not even a hint of their usual childish gleam showing through the red rage that seemed to bore straight through his head.  
“Peter.” He couldn’t see her from the angle he was pinned at, but Rocket could tell Gamora had raised herself to her feet. Quill gave no indication of hearing her however as he continued to glare.  
“You think you can get out of this that easily?” He seethed, ignoring as Rocket continued to scrape and claw at his wrists, having finally gotten through the jacket’s layering and instead pressing harder on the raccoon’s chest. “Not this time.”  
“Quill, put him down.” Gamora called again.  
“Why? So he can run off and hide away again like the coward he is?”  
Rocket was just as furious at this point. He knew being drunk certainly had its effects on him, hell, the last time Rocket had ever been this intoxicated, he had almost blown Drax’s head clean off. But that realization did nothing in terms of helping him in this situation as his mind raced to find a way out of the hold that Peter had on him.  
“I’m not above biting you Quill!” He threatened, although at the angle he was pinned at, he doubted he would be able to lock his jaws on anything. “Now put me down!”  
Peter turned to him sharply again, pushing a choked cough from the writhing raccoon as the air was pushed from his lungs. “Of course you’re not above biting me! You’re not above anything! All you do is act on impulse. You’re a selfish waste of space on this ship who doesn’t even care enough to keep itself alive much less anyone else.”  
Rocket wanted to shout back, say something, but the pressure against his chest made it impossible to breathe.  
“Quill.” Drax stated calmly. The remaining three Guardians seemed increasingly uncomfortable, realizing that there wasn’t much they could do in the situation except for allowing it to run its course and hope no one lost a head. “You are harming him.”  
Peter’s gaze hadn’t moved from Rocket for a moment, his anger only becoming more concentrated as the comment was added. “Harming him? Drax, how many times has he attacked you for pressing those buttons you had no idea he had? How many guns has he shoved in your face for something you didn’t even know you did wrong?” He asked.  
Rocket cringed at the comment. He knew it was true, they all did. There wasn’t a single Guardian on the ship who hadn’t gained at least one battle wound from an accidental run in with his more defensive side, and no one dared to fight it.  
“That’s what I thought. The only reason no one’s hurt you back is because they feel bad for you. They all pity you and your ‘tragic backstory’ that you won’t even tell us about!”  
Rocket shook his head angrily as he felt the tears brimming his eyes. “Stop!” He managed through choked breaths. “That’s not true.”  
“Really? Rocket, I’ve tried to be patient with you, to understand why you act like this, but you’ve finally crossed the line. You don’t care about anyone besides maybe Groot, and even that’s becoming hard to believe.”  
“Peter!”  
“I am Groot!”  
He ignored the sudden outbursts. In fact, at this point, Rocket doubted that Peter had even heard them.  
“You don’t know anything!” He managed, although the hold Peter had on him was still making breathing a difficult task and trying to shout back in his fit of rage wasn’t helping him in his predicament. “Let me go!”  
“Quill, you need to let the furred one go.” Peter shot Drax a glance as the large man placed a steady hand on his shoulder. “You’re harming him.”  
Peter’s glare shot back to the raccoon in question, his chest heaving under the man’s hand as his struggling stopped altogether.  
“Harming him? He- shit!” Quill’s outburst was cut short as Rocket finally decided to implement his least favorite fallback plan, craning his neck and cursing his taste-buds before sinking his teeth into the hand holding him. He was dropped to the floor in an instant, landing with a loud thump as he collapsed into a heaving mess, the world spinning around him again as though reminding him that the raccoon was still horribly intoxicated.  
He flinched as Peter moved to clench his hands, inspecting the bloody teeth marks hat left red trails of blood on his skin. “You bit me.” He stated plainly, staring at the marks almost in confusion. “You actually bit me.”  
“Don’ you dare touch me again, Quill!” Rocket shouted back, wanting nothing other than to have everything back to the way it was not ten minutes ago, everyone asleep in their quarters while Rocket could drink to his heart’s content, forgetting the rest of the Universe and everything in it. “You don’t know me! What I’ve seen!” He didn’t know why his mouth was still moving at this point, but he didn’t seem to care enough to stop the words from coming out. “I don’t need this right now! I don’t need you!”  
“Oh yeah! And you’re just so dependable right now aren’t you Rocket?”  
“Shut up.”  
“No! I want to know how you think this would all just work out for you without us here? All you’ve been doing since we started this missions is drink your weight in whatever booze you can get your paws on and put the rest of us in danger!” Peter retorted, gesturing towards the rest of the team, all who shrunk back at their mention. “You need us, Rocket. Without us you would be nothing if not dead! If anything, it’s us than don’t need you!”  
“You don’t think I already know that!”  
“Wh…” Peter’s sentence trailed off, his furious expression melting into that of confusion. Everyone else’s eyes were locked on him, creating that horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach again. So he continued to speak, again, finding control of the words coming out of his mouth completely absent once again.  
“I know you don’t need me! Okay? No one does. I-I wasn’t even meant to be here, to be alive.” He grimaced when his voice cracked.  
“Rocket.” Gamora’s voice, although a much appreciated change of pace at this point, made the raccoon flinch, taking in a heavy breath.  
“What? You want me to stop talking now? Does it make you uncomfortable?”  
“Rocket, listen-“  
“No you listen!” He snapped, turning to Peter. “You wanted to know about me so here it is. I know what I am. I know I’m useless and a freak and whatever else everyone calls me behind my back. I-I should have died there, I asked to die there. Hell knows my heart stopped enough times to have reached that point, but they always had to restart it. To bring me back and start it all over again.”  
The room had all but gone silent by now. Everyone at a loss of what to say as the smallest Guardian continued to speak.  
“They cut me open and tore me apart like I was no more than a test subject, that’s all I ever was and all I will ever be!”  
“Rocket.” Peter interrupted, stepping forward.  
“I should have died!”  
Hands were gripping his wrists now, pulling his claws from where they were digging painfully into his skin, causing blood to stain the grey fur. He couldn’t tell who it was that had grabbed him though as tears blurred and blinded his vision. “I wanted to die…”  
Hands moved from around his wrists slowly to his shoulders, watching to make sure he didn’t go back to harming himself in this fit of anxiety before pulling him into an embrace. He knew it was Groot the moment he was lifted into the air, not even caring to fight it. He had lost the ability to care anymore, simply giving into the wooden figure that clutched the raccoon close to his chest.  
He assumed the alcohol had finally decided to make its last move in finally taking his sense of consciousness because he hardly remembered being carried down the hallway. He didn’t remember crying himself to sleep or the fact that Groot had sat by his side the entire night.  
The only thing that had practically engraved itself into his mind at this point were the faces of his teammates as he was taken away. Disappointment, anger, pity.  
…  
Peter was the first one to react to the loud shot that rang throughout the ship. His eyes snapping open as a horrible shiver ran up his spine. Something was wrong.  
He cursed under his breath as the door of his sleeping quarters was flung open, still struggling to pull the drawstrings of his pajama pants into place as he ran down the hallway. His first thought was that they were under attack again, not that it would have surprised him all that much seeing as though they had for some reason allowed Rocket to monitor the ship again.  
He and the raccoon in question hadn’t spoken more than a word since that night, only giving each other awkward glances from the side as though they were about to apologize before reconsidering altogether. In fact, it seemed as though Rocket hadn’t really spoken to anyone outside of Groot, and even that was becoming scarce between the two.  
And maybe it was that that had given Peter that uncertain feeling of dread that made him stumble that much faster towards the source of the shot, his feet barely able to keep up with the pace his mind was running at. In fact, at this point, Peter was almost hoping that it was the Kree again, at least it would give him something to shoot at.  
His breath hitched in the back of his throat as he finally reached the top of the stairs, his brain going into panic mode at the sight before him.  
Rocket sat on the floor, sunken to his knees and motionless. His ears didn’t even twitch in the slightest when Peter’s footsteps became louder and closer.  
Peter was within reach of the smallest Guardian now, his knees bending as to bring him closer to Rocket’s height. “Rocket?”  
Rocket didn’t move, his body instead shaking uncontrollably as his gaze remained locked on the hole the gun shot had burned into the wall.  
“Rocket.” Peter tried again, this time more firmly as his hand reached instinctively for the gun that was still clenched tightly in the raccoon’s hand. A thin stream of smoke was still leaking from the nozzle as he was finally able to pry the thing from his teammate’s claws.  
“I missed.”  
Peter could swear he felt his heart stop as Rocket spoke. His eyes still sat unmoving upon the damned hole in the wall, but his body seemed to finally crumble as the initial shock began to fade, allowing his shoulders to slump forward so that he was resting on his hands and knees, his elbows shaking as though about to buckle under the sudden pressure. And a pat of him made Peter wonder if that was for the best, wanting nothing more than for Rocket to fall into another fit of unconsciousness, allowing him some form of escape from all the feelings building up in the creature.  
The gun was flung to the other side of the room as Peter reached forward to place a hand on Rocket’s shoulder.  
“Peter! What ha-“ Quill turned sharply towards where Gamora had halted herself in the doorway, her expression probably the most frightened he had even seen, especially on someone as emotionally controlled as the former assassin. His remaining hand made a rushed sweeping motion, gesturing for her to leave. The last thing Rocket needed was more attention.  
Thankfully, the woman seemed to understand the idea clearly, nodding shakily and giving the hunched over raccoon one last worried glance before turning around again, pushing back to more figures that had gathered by the doorway with her.  
It wasn’t until he was completely convinced that no one would be coming up the corridor again that Peter tuned back to Rocket, frowning sadly at the state Rocket had reduced himself to. He didn’t know what to say. He knew this instance was mostly his fault. His fault for yelling, for prodding him, for ignoring the signs.  
“Rocket?” It seemed to be the only word he was able to say at the moment.  
A heavy breath escaped Rocket’s mouth, racking his entire frame as everything he had ever been trying to hold together fell apart before him. “I missed.” He said again, a horribly forced chuckle following as though the situation in itself was absolutely hilarious. “I can hit a moving target from a mile away but I can’t even kill myself properly… how about that?” His voice was choked and hoarse by the sobs he was trying so hard to hold back, escaping in unnerving bursts of laughter.  
Peter knew under any other circumstance, he would have been torn to shreds by the reclusive raccoon, not that the thought had even crossed his mind as he moved his hand from Rocket’s shoulder to his chest, pulling him from his broken position on the floor and into the man’s lap, holding the raccoon close to his own chest as one would a child.  
They sat like that for a moment. Rocket’s body stiff and shaking, eyes still open and unmoving even as Peter pressed him tighter against himself, smoothing down the fur lining the creature’s neck in hopes of calming him. “I’m too much of a coward to even- to even…” His words were lost in a fit of shaky breaths as Rocket struggled to suppress the overwhelming weight of it all, not that it kept Quill from understanding any of it.  
“No, no. You’re not a coward, Rocket.” He managed, shaking his head. “You’re the bravest person I know.”  
Rocket opened his mouth as though to speak but quickly snapped it shut again, realizing he wasn’t going to be able to get anything comprehensive out at this point in his breakdown and simply shaking his head furiously instead.  
Peter moved one hand to grip Rocket’s, slowly prying it from the creature’s head where the claws had begun to draw blood again, massaging his small palm with his thumb while moving the arm to Rocket’s side, only letting go to go back to petting the raccoon once he was sure the hand wouldn’t try to harm him again. “You’ve been through so much on your own. You may not realize it, but we look up to you man… well, figuratively.” That got a chuckle and Peter smiled to himself before continuing.  
“We need you Rocket. I’m sorry for what I said before, for everything. I could never understand what you’ve been through, I don’t know that any of us can, but we’re gonna try, okay? You don’t have to be brave all the time. It’s a hard thing to keep up huh?” Rocket didn’t respond, only closing his eyes and pressing his head further into the man’s chest, soaking patches of his shirt with tears.  
“You okay?”  
He knew the answer already, which was why he was all but prepared for the response as Rocket let out a shuddering breath before letting it all fall out. “No.” And with that, he caved it, allowing the weight of it all come crashing down at once, choked sobs finally making themselves heard as he clutched Peter’s shirt like a lifeline.  
Peter had lost track of time after that moment. He didn’t know how long they had sat like that, Rocket sobbing violently into his chest as he continued to stroke his fur, reminding him every once and a while that he wasn’t about to leave, allowing his friend to let another wave of pain and sadness release itself from where it had built up like an unbearable pressure inside him.  
He wondered, even as the sobs turned into no more than stifled breaths and Rocket gave into exhaustion, falling asleep in Peter’s lap, if Rocket had ever been allowed that type of release before. If he had ever allowed the façade to fall away or if he had just been pushing it back, never allowing himself to feel weak.  
And judging by the fact that Rocket had been alone for the majority of his life, not that he really knew how long it had been before Groot had come along, Peter doubted ‘weakness’ was ever something Rocket had allowed himself to feel.  
But he was part of their team now. He was needed and loved and Peter wasn’t about to let him forget that for an instant. So, Rocket figured as Peter continued to comfort him, even in his sleep, that maybe he didn’t have to be brave all of the time.


	6. Protect From the Pain

“What did you steal?” Gamora asked flatly, not even turning around to face the heavy-breathing raccoon as he clambered up Groot’s leg and placed himself on the barstool beside her.  
Rocket only gave her a toothy grin, puffing out his chest as he tried to catch his breath. “Why are ya always assuming I stole something?” He asked, leaning on the tree man’s arm casually, swiping the tall glass from his wooden hand and taking a large gulp of the green liquid before making a face. Why the colossus always insisted on ordering the fruitiest drinks was a mystery to him.  
“You mean besides the fact that you just barreled through the doors carrying a bag of units and a pistol?” She asked, smacking his hand away playfully as he reached for her glass of some Xandarian whiskey. Rocket only rolled his eyes, playing with the tie on the pouch tauntingly, a wide smile lining his furred muzzle.  
“It’s his own fault, who the hell carries their money in flarkin bags anyway? He was practically begging me to take the thing off his hands.” He joked, jostling the thing in front of himself almost tauntingly in the woman’s direction.  
“You’re going to get yourself arrested… again.” She retorted. But smiling nonetheless as the raccoon continued his victory dance, shaking the bag and listening to the sound of units clashing against one another as Peter would to his Walkman.  
“Why do you care?” He asked almost skeptically, squinting at the woman as though thoroughly suspicious. “Could it be? The great assassin has a heart?”  
Gamora rolled her eyes, taking another sip of her drink and nudging the raccoon with her elbow. “I just don’t want to be dragged halfway across the galaxy to get your ass out of prison again.” She retorted, exchanging smug glances with Groot at Rocket’s reaction.  
“Hey! That was one time and that moon was half destroyed by stray asteroids anyway.” He snapped. “Where are the others?”  
Gamora shrugged, gesturing over her shoulder with one thumb. “I think Drax was challenged to a shot competition over there.” She responded, hearing the large man’s victorious laughter from behind.  
“Ha! No way, I gotta see this.”  
The night had gone smoothly thus far. The match Drax had been challenged to was easily won, the loser passed out somewhere in the corner, to be honest, Rocket had lost track of where everyone had gone to after his second whiskey, content to just watch the scene in front of him.  
Gamora still hadn’t moved from her spot across the way, although Groot had wandered off at some point. He didn’t really think to join her though. She was much like him in this way, content to sit alone, enjoying the scenery and her own thoughts, talking was overrated.  
It wasn’t really until Rocket noticed the drunken blue skinned alien sit beside her, scooting his stool too close for anyone’s standards that Rocket really began to pay attention.  
The raccoon smiled toothily into his own glass, leaning back to enjoy the show. He, as well as all of the Guardians took enjoyment in watching the strong-minded warrior take down a bleary eyed brute like a sack of potatoes. It had become a main source of entertainment in fact during the team pub visits.  
He turned his head, looking for any of the other Guardians before deciding that he was to enjoy the show by himself this time around seeing as both Drax and Quill had managed to convince Groot to join them in a gamble over in the corner of the bar. Rocket shrugged and turned back towards where Gamora sat, waiting for her to throw the punch that dropped that dumbass to the floor.  
The blue skinned man hadn’t fallen yet, even as he drew closer to Gamora, even intertwining his meaty fingers in her long hair and undoing the loose braid she had tucked it in earlier that night.  
Rocket frowned at the sight, sitting up a little further as though to leap into action, wondering exactly what Gamora was up to. Not that it would kill him to see her with a man for the night, hell, Quill had brought plenty of tipsy aliens back to the Milano (much to the teams’ shock every once and a while when they found a half-naked stranger upon their ship the next morning) but he knew this scenario wasn’t right. The brute in front of the green warrior was not the type of man he usually caught Gamora eyeing on the streets every once and a while, drunk and grabbing at her like some whiny child.  
The group had yet to see Gamora hook up with anyone during their time together, not that it would surprise him to find out that she was simply just very good at hiding her partners, but he knew that this slurring creature would not be within her bounds of dating. In fact, both Rocket and Quill had bet that were anyone to peak Gamora’s interest during a drunken night out, it would be Drax in his own half-conscious state. They had seen the way the two eyed each other, although Peter had disagreed for a good long while that his soulmate would look at anyone besides him that way before finally giving into Rocket’s observation.  
Realizing the situation was only becoming more uncomfortable, Rocket swiveled in his chair, staring back towards the three remaining team members at the back at the bar, wondering if anyone else was picking up on the situation at hand, and judging by Drax’s loud whoop and Groot almost spilling that damned fruit drink he always ordered upon Quill’s head, he realized there was no getting them away from the game table.  
He gave Gamora one last look, wondering if this was all part of the game she had set up for the creep that was now standing with his face only inches from her own, tugging experimentally at her hair and smiling a disgusting grin that revealed his missing yellowed teeth that made Rocket’s stomach churn. What was happening?  
Gamora didn’t look all too comfortable either as she pulled back almost sluggishly, frowning in frustration when her hair remained in the man’s hold, his second and third hand coming up to rest on either shoulder and turning her towards him again, looking as though he were about to try and gnaw off her face right then and there.  
Gamora pulled back again, this time angling her elbow to hit him in the chest, just the blow Rocket had been waiting for. His confidence faltered however as the swing was stopped by a hold on her arm as the creature went to grip her wrist tightly in his own hand. Gamora turned almost frantically, searching the room before her eyes finally met with Rocket’s.  
And that was all the proof he needed before leaping off of his stool.  
“Hey Gams, this guy botherin’ you?” He practically shouted, trying to keep the rage out of his tone. The last thing he needed now was to be banned from yet another bar due to his anger. Although, seeing the uncharacteristically shakiness of the woman in front of him as the creep continued to play with her hair almost tauntingly threatened to set him off like a grenade.  
“Move along rat.” The man slurred, grinning at his own comment before turning back to the stiffened woman and running his third hand over her cheek.  
Rocket had to clench his teeth to keep from attacking the idiot, instead taking to leaping up on the stool beside Gamora and placing a hand on one shoulder, giving her a stern glance as her own gaze flickered towards him. “Thanks for the input man, but I wasn’t talking to you.” He snarled. “Now maybe you’d like to back off a bit before this galaxy renowned assassin regains her senses.” He threatened, gesturing towards the ever-present sword at her side and smiling when the reeking man’s eyes widened slightly.  
“I told you to move along rat, she’s fine right here. Right babe?” He asked, pulling Gamora towards him as one of his three arms slid around her waist.  
Rocket clenched his fist at his side, his other hand keeping a firm grip on her shoulder, rage pooling up inside of him. Why wasn’t Gamora doing anything?  
“Holy shit! Gams, how much of this stuff did you drink?” He asked almost frantically. His gaze flickered from one emptied glass to the next before finally resting on the woman sitting shakily over the bar, looking more green in the face than usual. To be honest, Rocket didn’t even think Gamora could get drunk. Judging by her behavior in past pubs, or lack thereof, he had assumed that her enhancements made it almost impossible for her to become intoxicated.  
Although the mess displayed in front of him declared otherwise. Gamora was capable of getting drunk. Gamora was capable of getting very very dunk.  
But he had seen her drink far more than this, she had drunk both him and Drax under the table countless amounts of times in the past without batting an eye. So why was she acting so strange? So out of it. Almost as though she had been…  
“You bastard.” He felt Gamora twitch as his claws dug into her skin, quickly pulling away and reaching for the gun holstered to his back. The man only quirked an eyebrow at the raccoon, smiling smugly at the outburst. “What did you do to her?”  
“What? Nothin’. Listen guy, my lady’s just a bit tipsy, so why don’tcha just let me take her home and-“  
He didn’t even have a chance to react before the nozzle of Rocket’s gun was pressed against his large blue nose, gears turning and the sound of a blast charging as he turned off the safety. “Like hell! You’re not taking her anywhere buddy, now I’d step away before ya gotta take on two Guardians here, because lemme tall ya. Gams may have one hell of a vengeance plot, but I’ve got the gun right now, and I don’t take well ta people who drug my friends. So why don’t you move along before I flarkin blast you out that door over there myself.”  
All three hands pulled away as though he had just touched hot acid as the sick creature’s eyes widened even further to the point of almost bulging out of his head entirely. “You’re crazy.” He accused, staring at the gun with a terrified expression. “You and this goddamned bitch-“  
BANG  
He fell in a mass of limbs in an instant, seizing under the effects of the electric shock before falling still on the floor.  
“Rocket!” He was still seething when Quill made it to his side, wrestling the gun from his grip just as the raccoon let out a second blast, watching the creature writhe again, making sure he wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon. “What the hell happened?”  
“That bastard went and drugged Gamora!” He shouted, leaping off of the stool and giving him a good kick to the back of the head.  
“What?” Quill fell quiet, staring at the fallen brute in shock as Rocket continued to kick.  
“Are you alright?” Drax asked, clutching the woman’s face in either hand and lowering himself to her eye level. Her position hadn’t relaxed for a second, still set in panic mode even as Drax tried to gain her attention.  
Rocket gave the manager a curt nod as he saw the enraged man storming towards the group. “Yeah we got it. Come on guys, let’s get her back to the ship. Drax?” The taller Guardian had already stood Gamora up, gesturing for Quill to follow him in draping one arm over his own shoulder and walking her out of the bar.  
…  
Gamora ran her hands over her face again, letting out another deep breath and leaning back against the cool wall of Peter’s room, which he had been so generous as to lend her seeing as though her sleeping quarters consisted of the worn out couch in the common room and she had required a good amount of time to herself after getting back to the ship.  
It had been a few hours since the situation at the bar and after a shower and a few glasses of cool water, she was finally beginning to regain her sense of consciousness, at least being able to vocalize again, telling herself to calm down as she rubbed her hands together, massaging the palms and trying to get them to stop shaking.  
The boys had been happy to oblige upon the Milano, bringing her water whenever she asked and careful to keep things quiet while walking past the door.  
She felt her breathing become shaky again, her stomach churning as a wave of nausea fell over her again. The light of Quill’s room suddenly felt so much brighter, making her vision swim slightly. She clenched her eyes shut, groaning in frustration as she knew she didn’t even have the coordination to turn off the light herself as the switch was located on the other side of the room. “Dammit.”  
“I guess that answers my question.”  
Gamora groaned again as Rocket entered the room, only opening her eyes to face him after he had lifted one hand to switch off the fluorescent bulb. “What?” She asked, not meaning to sound as annoyed as she had come off as.  
Rocket didn’t seen too phased though, just shrugging and closing the door after him. “I was gonna ask how you were feeling.” He explained, padding his way over to her at bedside and lifting up the object in his hands for her to see. “Groot thought you’d like it, some weird flower or something he grew for ya. Supposed to calm nerves or something like that.” He said, waiting patiently for her to take the cup of steaming tea into her own shaky hands.  
She wasn’t unaware of the careful gaze he held upon her as she raised the chipped cup to her lips, taking a large sip from the hot liquid, inhaling deeply as the stuff scorched her mouth. She didn’t care though, it was better than feeling nothing at all. She wasn’t sure if it was the sweet petals that Groot had brewed in for her of the heat itself, but it certainly made her feel better, the migraine fading to a dull pain at the back of her skull and her churning stomach calming in an instant.  
“Thank you.”  
Rocket smiled, gesturing toward the door. “Nah, Groot did all the work, but he can’t exactly fit through Stardork’s doorway so-“  
“No.” She cut him off, taking a hand from the side of the cup she had let rest in her lap and placing it on the raccoon’s shoulder. “Thank you. For what you did back there. I- I don’t want to think about what could have happened were you not there for me Rocket.” She felt a shiver run up her spine at the thought.  
Rocket stared back up solemnly, putting his hand on top of hers. “Me neither. You’re okay though right? He didn’t hurt you did he?”  
She shook her head, staring back at the ripples in her tea. “No, not really.”  
Rocket didn’t seem convinced but didn’t press it any further. “Can I?”  
Gamora nodded, scooting over to make room for her smaller teammate, taking another sip from her cup as he pulled himself on top of the bed beside her. They sat like that for a while, in silence. Both wondering if they should say something or just let it be.  
To be honest, the gesture, although incredibly helpful in her mental state, was unnerving for someone like Rocket. With her anyway. She liked to think that the band of misfits had a bond stronger than any other, at least that she had ever experienced, and she was sure the others thought of it the same way. But she and Rocket had never really held too much of a connection. Sure they talked and fought well together, but it wasn’t like them to really make an effort to bond over anything, it wasn’t really in either of their skill sets.  
It was almost unnerving seeing him act like this, like he didn’t have some snarky comment to make or a target to shoot at.  
“I’m sorry I got you banned from another bar.” She quipped, her gaze not even moving from the cup in her hands for a second.  
She saw Rocket shrug from her corner of her eye. “Booze wasn’t that good anyway.”  
She smiled and nodded in agreement. “I should have been more careful of my surroundings, not let myself become so distracted like that.”  
“Gam, it’s not your fault.”  
“I’ve never let my guard down like that before, I- I thought…”  
“Hey! What did I just say? You didn’t do shit Gamora, that sick lowlife shouldn’t have tampered with your drink. He had no right to do what he did to you.” Rocket said sternly, gesturing to a bruise that had been left from where the man had gripped her wrist.  
She felt a breath hitch in her throat. “I couldn’t do anything. I- I knew what was happening but I couldn’t- I just-“  
“It’s scary. I know. Gamora, come on, take a breath, you’re scaring me here.” She nodded, trying to force herself to calm down, but her breathing remained shaky and unstable. She knew she was probably confusing him with her behavior just as much as she was confused with his own. Neither of them were acting like they had been pretending to be around each other for the past few months and that just made the whole situation that much more confusing.  
“It’s creepy as hell, to be trapped in your own body like that, unable to move or do anything about it, I get it, trust me, but you’re okay now, we’re gonna make sure that doesn’t happen again. I promise.”  
Gamora paused in her unsteady breathing, tearing her gaze away from her cup and towards Rocket, his own eyes locked on a random screw in the wall ahead of them. “You’ve felt this before?”  
Rocket let out a sigh of his own, looking down at the bedsheets as though the thread count held more interest to him than anything else in the room. “Helpless? Yeah.” He nodded.  
Gamora pursed her lips, hoping that he might continue. And to her astonishment, he did. “When your father-sorry, when Thanos changed you, did you feel any of it?” He must have caught he confused expression, because he went on to explain again. “Like the operations for the metal and stuff… were you awake for it?” He asked, turning towards her without fully meeting her eyes.  
Gamora was surprised to say the least. Thanos was a monster, a man who tortured her to no end with the pain he had put her through both mentally and physically, but even he knew where to stop. Her metal augmentations went to the bone, she and all of her adopted siblings had been put to sleep for even the smallest of operations, whether it be another spinal implant, or an incision to the forearm. Although she always supposed it was so the warriors wouldn’t get any ideas of escaping, knowing they wouldn’t be able to repair themselves without Thanos’ mechanics.  
Realizing that Rocket had yet to receive an answer from her, the woman shook her head frantically. “No… why?”  
Another heavy breath. “I was.” Gamora felt sick to her stomach. “Not sure why, maybe it was expensive or they just didn’t give a shit. But I felt all of it. Heh, have you seen your arm cut off and placed of the other side of the room? Or your own heart beating inside your chest? Because lemme tell you, it’s not a pretty sight.” He shook his head, laughing unnervingly forced. “Yeah, I know what it feels like to be helpless, to not be able to move or do anything, and I’d rather die than let you go through that again because it’s fucking scary as hell.”  
Gamora didn’t know what to say. She was shaking again, but this time for a different reason altogether. Rocket didn’t look any calmer for that matter, his claws digging deep into the bed sheets and his breathing just as unstable as her own.  
“I’m sorry”  
Rocket glanced to her from her corner of his eye. “I already told you Mora, It’s not your fault, that guy-“  
“I mean about what happened to you.” She cut him off, reaching a hand toward him as though to pet him as she had seen Drax do a few times before. Now that she thought of it, this was the closest the two had ever been for this long, she didn’t want to ruin that by assuming she carried the same immunity.  
“You can… if you want to, just don’t tell Quill, that idiot’s got enough dirt on me as it is.” He smiled.  
She was confused for a moment before she felt Rocket’s fur against the palm of her hand. She gave an experimental stroke down the back of head before it became an almost natural motion, the raccoon leaning into the pressure with every stroke.  
“You know, if you need some leverage over Quill at any time, I just so happen to have some information about a certain Aaskavarian girl a couple planets over.” She added, smiling widely when Rocket practically whirled around to face her. “You WHAT? Ha! Do you know what I could do with that information? I could keep that sucker off my back for months!”  
They laughed for a moment before falling into a comfortable silence, the only sound being Rocket’s soft snores mixed with a content purr as he fell asleep on her lap, head on her lap and mouth hanging open. Gamora smiled as she continued to stroke her hands calmly through his fur before falling asleep herself.


	7. Trust in Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this took way too long. I feel like that is just gonna be the intro to every chapter though since Im so late on everything. Props to SonicGirl4Ever for giving me the idea months ago. I did change the prompt a bit seeing as though I already wrote a full length story about Rocket getting repossessed by Halfworld called Panic Attack and didn’t want to be redundant, so the villains are a bit switched but hopefully will still make for a good story for you guys.  
> Also, thank you to a guest on AO3 for pushing me to finally update. I’ve gotten a couple of story requests that will be met shortly. Thanks for reading, enjoy!

“I am Groot.” The Flora Colossus grumbled through a smirk, speaking lowly as though trying to whisper to the raccoon beside him.  
“Tell me about it.” Rocket replied, rolling his eyes before returning to his ray gun sitting on his lap. The thing had been stepped on by one of the larger companions on the ship, no one had admitted to anything yet, but he was at least eighty-eight percent sure it was Drax.  
“Wait what? What did he say?” Rocket bit back a snicker as Quill ran up behind them, trying to keep up with the lumbering tree walking ahead of him. “Are you guys talking about me?”  
Groot rumbled with a low chuckle, meeting Rocket’s toothy smile with a grin of his own. “Ya know, not everything’s got to be about you Stardork.” He called back from where he was perched on Groot’s shoulder, still not taking his eyes off of his pistol lest he drop a piece on their walk. “But yeah.”  
He snickered again upon hearing Quill’s agitated sigh behind them, mumbling something about incomprehensible trees.  
The three had split off from Drax and Gamora that morning as Quill decided that he needed a certain cybernetic gun-toting raccoon to help him with some trouble he had somehow gotten himself tangled in. Rocket had a feeling it had to do with that Aaskavarian chick he had caught sneaking off the ship the night before, not that he would say anything, anything to get some dirt of the famous Starlord, not that he didn’t have a books worth of blackmail information already.  
Seeing how Groot had yet to leave Rocket’s side since reaching full size again, it wasn’t surprising that the lumbering tree had decided to tag along, smiling brightly at every passerby, almost the polar opposite of the hunched ringtail perched on his shoulder, glaring almost menacingly at anyone who dared to even make eye contact. He knew the others found it entertaining to see the nearby pedestrians scatter upon seeing the paranoid raccoon’s pointed teeth after revealing them through a snarl, but it was a paranoia he couldn’t seem to quell. It felt as though no matter how hard he tried to see it any other way, their sideways glances had always set him on edge.  
In fact, he felt a shudder run up his spine as he felt another pair of eyes on him, seeming to bore themselves into the side of his head as he turned to face the particular man with the unwavering gaze. The citizen looked shocked to say the least, his mouth hanging open as the trio walked past, groping at another woman who had her back turned to them. Upon whirling around herself, swiping with irritation at the hand on her arm, her face mirrored the same expression, her eyes widening to almost twice the size upon meeting with the raccoon.  
Rocket groaned in annoyance when Groot took notice of the pair, raising his hand to give them a friendly wave. He tapped the tree on the side of his head, receiving an annoyed groan as Groot’s hand lowered. “Don’ do that ya idiot.”  
“Oh, let him have his fun Rocky. Quit being so paranoid.” Peter called, smirking at the irritated scowl he received from his smallest teammate.  
“I’m not paranoid.” He murmured, shifting to catch the couple’s eye again, but when he turned, they had disappeared. Strange.  
“I am Groot.”  
“Wh- I am not!”  
Quill laughed triumphantly, holding a hand up in a high-five gesture, one of which Groot returned eagerly. “Oh come on Rocket, loosen up a little. Why are you always so on edge?” He asked upon noticing Rocket’s aggravated expression.  
“What? I’m not on edge, I just- did you see the way those two were looking at us? It’s annoying, that’s all.” He could feel his tail twitching behind him. He knew they were right, in fact, he doubted Quill had even noticed the pair, let alone anyone else who had dared to turn their gaze towards the gun toting raccoon.  
He could see Quill shrugging from the corner of his eye. “I’m gonna be frank man, but you’re a talking raccoon and tree, chances are, you’re gonna get a couple curious looks.” Rocket turned to him sharply, frowning at the comment. “I’m not saying it’s okay, I’m just saying that you shouldn’t really pay attention to it if it’s gonna be that common. All jokes aside, I don’t like seeing you so paranoid all the time, all that stress can’t be good for you.” He continued, holding his hands out in a ‘don’t shoot’ gesture.  
Rocket shifted uncomfortably upon Groot’s shoulder, turning back to the forgotten pistol in his lap. He hardened his gaze on the mechanism when Quill opened his mouth to speak again, he was happy to have friends that cared about him aside from Groot, but he was never one for the ‘serious talk.’ It made him feel like he was walking into an intervention every time one of the Guardians tried bringing something that ‘worried’ them up to him.  
He was spared from Quill’s monologue however when a voice from behind cut him off abruptly.  
“Excuse me sir!”  
Quill turned around quickly following the hand that had attached itself to the sleeve of his leather coat. “Uh, can I help you?” He asked warily, his gaze flickering towards the raccoon beside him. Sensing his worried tone, Rocket followed his gaze, turning his head up from his project. He could feel his eyes widen slightly upon seeing the couple from before, the man pulling his hand from Quill’s shoulder as the former Ravanger turned around to face him.  
“Yes, actually.” He responded, his voice sounding somewhat familiar for some odd reason. “I’m Callaghan and this here is my partner Helena.” He said, gesturing to the woman behind him, the same woman who seemed determined not to lose in an unwarranted staring contest with the ringtail.  
“Starlord.” Quill responded, glaring halfheartedly towards Rocket as he snickered, an action that did not go unnoticed by the two new figures in front of them. “So, uh, what can we do for you?”  
Helena was the one to answer, breaking her locked gaze away from Rocket for half a moment to turn towards Quill. “Actually, we were wondering what we could do for you. How does five-hundred-thousand units sound?”  
“We’ll take it! Who do we need to kill?” The two seemed to leap back in surprise as Rocket launched himself into a standing position on Groot’s shoulder, holding out his pistol in front of him as though aiming at some invisible enemy.  
He grinned toothily at Quill’s defensive response. “What? Rocket, we don’t even know if that’s what this is even about. What if they want the Milano or something like that?”  
Rocket just rolled his eyes at the thought. “No one’s gonna want a flarkin junk pile like that for five-hundred-thousand units dumbass.”  
“Well we’re not taking a deal where you blow another bounty’s head clean off for the units either. We’d use all of the money on your bail from prison again.” Peter pressed, furrowing his brow as Rocket frowned.  
“I get arrested one time and you idiots can’t drop it can you?”  
Even Groot glared skeptically at that one. “Excuse me Mr. I’ve-broken-out-of-twenty-three-prisons?” Quill pressed.  
“Hey, Dey said our criminal records were erased, those don’t count anymore.”  
Quill looked about ready to retort when the sound of someone clearing their throats caught their attention again. “Oh, sorry. Uh, so this isn’t a bounty hunt is it? Because if it is, we’re gonna have to decline, we’ve got kind of a tight leash in terms of Nova law after someone tried to shoot down the Kree ambassador.”  
“Hey, ask Drax, that guy did look like Ronan from the back.” Rocket protested.  
“We blew him to smithereens using a freaking infinity stone! How could that have possibly been Ronan?”  
“Bah, you weren’t looking at him from my angle okay? It was very convincing.”  
“It’s not a bounty.” Callaghan interrupted, obviously coming to the realization that the two of them would become easily forgotten amidst the argument between Rocket and Quill were he not to step in. “We’re actually here to give you, Mr. Starlord, a proposition.”  
Quill looked surprised at the comment. “Really? Okay, what do you want then?” He asked, suddenly much more open to the idea of collecting the earnings now that Rocket’s trigger happy tendencies were out of the picture.  
“That.”  
Rocket almost toppled off of his perch altogether as a finger was thrust only inched from his face. “What?” He demanded, swiping angrily at the hand.  
The two ignored him however, looking towards Quill’s awestruck face instead. “We are willing to trade you the five-hundred-thousand units to take your pet off of your hands here.” Helena stated, already making the grab for the ringtail. An action that earned her another swipe of Rocket’s clawed hand before he lifted his pistol to point directly at her head, a growl of warning growing in the back of his throat.  
He was never able to growl out a response of his own before Quill stepped forward. And for a moment, Rocket could have sworn that his heart had stopped beating altogether, his chest constricting uncomfortably in fear because, for that mere second that felt like an eternity in his mind, Rocket could have sworn that Quill was about to say yes.  
His stomach dropped when Quill moved to stand in front of him and his footing was almost lost altogether when Groot began to move as well, a large wooden hand raising up to steady him again. He had to fight the urge to swipe at that hand too.  
Sensing Rocket’s discomfort, Groot moved again, turning to face Rocket and giving him a reassuring look. “Excuse me?” Quill shouted furiously, his hand hovering only inches away from his own holstered weapon. “Did you just say that you wanted to buy Rocket?”  
Oblivious to his furious gaze, the two nodded eagerly, he could have sworn that the lady was even reaching for a wallet before Quill held up a hand to stop her. “I’m about to give you to the count of five before I turn a blind eye to Rocket and that pistol he’s got up there.”  
Rocket could suddenly breathe again, letting out a breath that he hadn’t even noticed he had been holding, turning towards the two humanoids for a response. They looked dumbstruck to say the least, Helena opening and closing her mouth as though looking for the right words. “Wh-what?’  
“You heard me.” Quill responded plainly. “My friend here, isn’t for sale.”  
“Mr. Starlord, I assure you that we’ll make this worth your time. We can increase the value. Six hundred, Seven hundred-thousand units for the animal. Just-“  
“Five.”  
“What?”  
“Four.”  
Rocket began to follow once again, allowing himself to pick up the pistol again, turning off the safety and allowing the whirring sound of the plasma blast charging to sound loudly for show.  
The other two seemed to grasp the idea as well once Quill reached three, backing up tentatively before giving Rocket one last look and taking of back into the crowded street.  
Quill shook his head, his face contorted in an expression of disgust as the two figures disappeared. “Assholes.” Rocket was rocked again as Groot nodded angrily, letting out a low hum of agreement.  
“I am Groot.” He growled out quietly, raising his hand as though to pat Rocket as a gesture of comfort, one that was quickly disregarded as the ringtail pushed the hand away, snarling slightly.  
“’course I’m fine ya idiot.” He retorted, placing his gun back in his lap as he moved to sit down again. He was trying hard not to look too bothered, but he knew there was no convincing the two, especially now that Quill was eyeing his twitchy tail with a look of discomfort.  
“You sure man? That was pretty messed up.”  
Rocket nodded, going back to staring at his gun as though nothing had ever interrupted them in the first place. “Whatever.”  
He could tell both Quill and Groot were exchanging worried glances, but ignored them the best he could, he just wanted to go home. To pretend like everything was normal. Like he was normal. He cursed himself for thinking, even if only for that one brief moment, that Quill would have followed through with the deal. That his friend would have given him up so easily.  
“That was a lot of money.” He found himself wondering aloud about halfway into the trip back to the Milano.  
“What?” Quill looked almost offended by the comment, giving Rocket a quizzical look despite the fact that the raccoon had yet to glance up from his device.  
“Those two back there.” He responded, gesturing over his shoulder as though quill didn’t already knows what he was talking about. “They offered you a lot of money, probably would have stretched as far as a million big ones if you had played ‘em right.”  
Rocket almost toppled off of Groot entirely when Quill took one step to the left, causing the tree man to halt in his foot falls and turn to face the man. Rocket almost didn’t want to look up, knowing now that he had made a huge mistake in bringing up the thought that had been swimming at the font of his mind. He knew it was wrong, that his friends would never give him up like that. But for whatever reason, the frightened, untrusting part of him that never seemed to retreat from his thoughts forced him to wonder.  
“Do you really think I’d do that Rocket?”  
No answer.  
“Rocket.”  
“I don’t know! No, I- Jesus, Quill, I’m just saying…” He snapped, still refusing to look up. It was obvious now that he had most definitely said the wrong thing at this point, and despite how much he wanted to, he also knew there was no way of taking it back at this point.  
“Just saying what? That you don’t trust me? That you think I cherish money more than you?” He could tell Quill was furious now, and although he had yet to look up from his lap, he knew that the man’s face was probably as red as his ever-present jacket.  
“It’s not that.” He murmured, although he couldn’t really bring even himself to believe that lie. He wanted to trust the others, he really did. They had been the only ones to tolerate him all this time besides Groot. But he couldn’t shake the fact that their relationship was just that. Tolerating.  
Before having met Groot, Rocket had tagged along with a few other partners at one time or another during the tough bounties or creating a group of jail-breakers. But in the end, he had always ended up alone. It was what he was used to and he had grown fond of the ‘loner’ title after a while. Never having to depend on anyone. No one to hurt and no one to hurt him in return. Until Groot, that was all he ever really knew. And although now, staring at the pistol in his lap as he tried to avoid Quill’s offended gaze, he still couldn’t bring himself to think that way again. That this was none other than another temporary arrangement until he annoyed them enough to get himself kicked again.  
“So what then? What is it Rocket?” Rocket didn’t answer. This time showing his teeth when Quill tried to close the distance between the two. The man grunted in frustration, running his hands through his hair and tugging angrily at it. “God Rocket! Seriously, what is wrong with you?”  
Rocket’s head shot up, the gun finally rolling off his legs and hitting the pavement with a loud crack that went unnoticed by both. “You don’t get to ask me that question Quill! You don’t know what I’ve been through okay?”  
Quill’s frustrated expression quickly changed to one of exasperation, his hands lifting in the air and dropping at his sides. “No, no I don’t! I don’t know anything about you Rocket because you won’t tell us anything. Don’t pin that on me when it’s your own fault. I can’t help you if you don’t trust me here!”  
Rocket had already leapt up into a standing position on Groot’s shoulder, making himself even taller. “I don’t need your help Quill!” Liar.  
“Fine!” Peter threw his arms again as though shoving him away, turning around and heading back on the trail to the Milano. “Then next time we come across something as sick as those two, I’ll let you handle it.” And with that, he was gone, taking off into the crown, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his jacket.  
Grot moved to follow, bending down first to pick up the discarded gun, although it was back to pieces due to the fall. “Leave it.” Groot frowned as Rocket dropped to the ground next to him. “I gotta get new parts anyway. Head back to the ship, I’ll see ya there in a bit.”  
Groot stood back to his full height, still frowning and obviously not wanting to leave his friend at this point. “Go ahead, I’ll be fine, I just need some time.” He admitted, grateful he had a friend as understanding as Groot, especially as he gave him a grunt of agreement before making to follow Quill again, brushing Rocket’s ears with his long fingers and smiling when the raccoon swiped playfully at him.  
He let out a frustrated sigh as the tree disappeared into the mass of people. Looking down at the ground, he tapped the discarded pistol with a toe, furrowing his brow upon deciding that it probably wasn’t worth trying to fix anyway, he already had a mass amount of projects lining the floor of his quarters and more guns than he could count scattered upon the ship.  
At the same time, he couldn’t really go back to the Milano at this point. He needed time to forget, time to calm himself down and regain the courage to face Quill again. He knew what he did wrong, not that he would ever admit it. And that was probably his problem. He would never admit to being wrong, Quill knew that, Quill would get over that, and in a few days, Quill would pretend like the whole fight never happened, because that was who Peter was. Rocket on the other hand would never let himself forget this, just like he had failed to forget the fact that he had scoffed at Drax’s sentimentality and family. He had made mistakes and had no idea how to fix them.  
Rocket groaned again, kicking the pistol, ignoring the pain in his foot. “I need a drink.” He decided, turning around. “Ow, hey!” He growled, turning around to face whoever had been bright enough to try and grab his tail. “What are you doing?” The next few moments were a blur.  
The hand pulled hard and another clamped around his neck, holding him still enough to sick the needle in him.  
…  
Rocket woke up to a raging headache. Weird, he didn’t remember getting drunk last night. Then again, he never did. He sat up bleary eyed though, rubbing that sore spot on the back of his head, it didn’t feel like a hangover headache, more like an I-got-in-another-stupid-bar-fight-and-got-knocked-out headache, which wouldn’t have surprised him.  
Deciding it would hurt his brain less to simply as one of the Guardians what had happened rather than racking his brain again, Rocket finally opened his eyes fully, staring blankly at the wall. Weird, he didn’t recall his room containing bars, had he gotten arrested again? No, that he would have remembered, or at least Groot would have made a point to be in the cell alongside him.  
Rocket frowned, his tail twitching behind him in agitation as his heart rate began to pick up speed. He tried taking a deep breath, wishing he could remember how he had gotten here, wishing he could figure out where ‘here’ even was in the first place.  
He turned his head to find another barred wall, just as close as the first. Then another, and another. Even the ceiling of the barred room brushed his ears as he sat up. The lock on the door was secured tightly with a padlock, one of which Rocket was sure he could pick open if he gained the concentration to do so, however, the new term for his holding cell was blaring loudly in his mind.  
Cage.  
He was in a cage.  
Rocket’s breathing hitched in his throat, his body going numb as his brain struggled to process the information. How? Why? When had this even happened? He was shaking now, eyes darting from one corner of the darkened room to another.  
Despite his enhanced sight, Rocket could hardly make out anything other than the makeshift table his cage had been placed on and a few boxes contouring the shadows over in the corner. Although he was led to believe that this was probably due to the dazed state he was still in which was still making his head spin the more he tried to focus.  
The raccoon snapped his head to the side, blinking furiously as though his vision would clear the more he did so. He couldn’t tell if the thrumming sound in his ears was the sound of footsteps down the hallway outside of the room or his own heart beating in his chest.  
Although, at this point, he decided that it didn’t really matter. The only thing Rocket could seem to think at this point was just how much he needed to get out. Even as he began slamming himself against the walls of the cage, barely able to process what he was doing even as the metal crate toppled over, sending him to the floor, the crash only disorienting him more.  
His ears were ringing and his head was throbbing with a dull pain at the back of his skull that had him so disoriented that he could hardly concentrate on anything other than the way the world spun around him.  
He was so distracted in fact, that he hadn’t even noticed the door had opened. The only indication being that the light from the hallway was now shining directly into his eyes, blinding the raccoon and causing him to panic even more, reaching out frantically for the bars as though if he pulled hard enough, they just might detach altogether.  
All hope of doing so disappeared quickly as he felt the steal tap around him jostle again, the ‘floor’ suddenly becoming unbalanced as the cage was roughly picked up.  
Rocket’s stomach lurched at the sudden movement, falling to his knees again and gripping the thick wires below his fingers to keep himself from getting thrown against another wall of the container.   
“And where exactly do you think you’re going little guy?”  
Rocket’s grip tightened even more around the thin cables beneath him to the point of cutting the appendages off altogether as the bars dug into his small fingers. That voice sounded eerily familiar.   
“Helena!” Rocket growled lowly upon hearing the second voice, a pair of footsteps following as Callaghan appeared in the doorway behind his partner, face made almost unidentifiable by the darkened shadows of the room in contrast with the blinding light behind him. “What happened?”  
“Tipped the cage over.” Helena answered reaching forward with her spare hand towards the cage door.  
Rocket didn’t waste a second upon hearing the latch click open, launching himself up and out with all of the adrenaline soaked energy he could muster. Which unfortunately wasn’t a lot.  
The two barely even moved as the prisoner tumbled to the floor, hitting his head sharply on the hard floor and sprawling out unceremoniously, curling in on himself when his already throbbing head became almost unbearable.  
A whimper escaped him when he felt a hand grasp his arm tightly. The embarrassing sound was quickly replaced with a growl of warning as he struggled to pull back on the hand. “What the hell? Let me go you-“  
“Any damage?”  
“No, nothing broken. Mild concussion maybe.” Rocket snarled again in frustration as the woman continued to prod him, even clasping her hands around his skull at one point. “The tranquilizers certainly didn’t last as long as we were expecting.”  
“What? Hey quit it! You have no right to-“  
“Hmm, better increase the next dose.” The two were speaking as though they couldn’t even hear the confused raccoon even as he attempted to swipe at the hands Helena had groping at him, even pulling slightly at his tail, sending a shiver up his spine. His wrist was caught midair, the woman not even giving him a glance as he struggled to pull it back again. Maybe drawing blood would make her listen.  
Rocket’s frustration only grew however as he realized just how weak he was. Every movement, every thought was sluggish and disoriented as though his blood had suddenly turned to molasses and his head had been stuffed with cotton. The fall had only made his vision swim worse than before and he was struggling to keep his eyes locked on anything at this point.  
Helena moved to grip both of his wrists in one hand, reaching out to grip the top of his jumpsuit with the other.  
At this point, the panic within the disoriented raccoon’s mind surged greatly, his mind going into overdrive, trying to escape the tight grip around his hands as his body failed to comply. He couldn’t believe it. Despite having scoffed at the remark Quill had made earlier that day (was it even the same day?) Rocket still took pride in his reputation of escaping twenty-three prisons, all with high security measures, a few including a straight-jacket and solitary confinement and armed guards, yet he couldn’t pull himself out of a fucking hand hold?  
He doubted she was even holding on that tightly either, and even if Helena’s hands weren’t clasped around his own, he was sure that he wouldn’t have even made it out of the room on his own without tripping over his own feet at this point. Whatever drug they had used had certainly not reacted well with him.  
“Stop. What are you doing?” He managed, although it was weak at best as he followed Helena’s spare hand to where it was gipped at the collar of his suit.  
“A curiously complicated garment for such a primitive creature.” She observed, again choosing to ignore Rocket’s question. Although at this point, Rocket was beginning to think they actually couldn’t hear him as his voice was barely audible to himself.  
Helena continued to experiment with the clasps and zippers lining the raccoon’s outfit before finally getting it loosened enough to pull it off completely, a movement that was met with a low growl as he was forced into his exposed state.  
The cold air meeting the bald patched on his back and chest make him shiver again and hunch in on himself, trying to pull his knees up on instinct. The angry growl was, to his horror and humiliation, quickly turned to a startled yelp as the hands continued to keep their control, pulling on his foot and stretching him out so she could clearly see the mess of scarred skin and exposed implants.  
“Oh my- Cal, you have to see this!” And with that, Rocket was no longer being pinned to the floor. In fact, he wasn’t even touching the floor anymore as Helena stood up, pulling the limp creature with her like a ragdoll. Rocket grunted in pain but didn’t try to say anything, he knew it would only fall on deaf ears and honestly, at this point he was probably too exhausted to make anything comprehensible out in the first place.   
He was brought into the brightly lit hallway, making him wish that he was back in the dark again, he felt like he could see even less under the blinding LEDs. He didn’t even notice he had been set down again until he felt something cold and metal clasp tightly around his neck.  
He couldn’t breathe hell, he could hardly move as the collar seemed to restrict him, clamping tightly around his windpipe. Rocket pulled as hard as he could against the leash, which, wasn’t all that much if he was being honest. The chain clanked loudly as it rattled against the table he had been set on, keeping him from moving out of the one foot radius he had been allowed.  
He opened his mouth to shout, to growl, to say anything as he felt he hands return to him, pulling him back by the hips toward the body behind him. Nothing came out. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t make a sound, couldn’t breathe. He wasn’t sure seeing as his vision had yet to clear, but he decided that it must have been Callaghan to have grabbed him this time judging by the stronger and larger hold.  
Rocket’s tail sunk instinctively between his legs when he felt one of the hands latch itself sturdily on the backside, pinching his small body in one hand, finger and thumb locked on either hip to keep him from moving. The collar locked to the table ahead of him kept him from turning his head towards whoever was holding him back, stretching him out again so that the couple could easily see his back.  
“Incredible.” Rocket shuddered as he felt the man’s breath on the back of his neck.  
“Think of the scientific research and tests that must have gone into this. How many subjects do you think they went through to get this far?”   
Rocket shut his eyes, gnawing on his bottom lip with sharp teeth. Twelve. Twelve subjects, twelve failures before he was named the last standing. He had only met a few. Some came and go. The first five had died long before he was even created. 89P06 and 7 were twins. Of what species, he couldn’t recall. But he knew they had died together the day one of the white coats came in to clear out the cages. At least they had had that though. Someone to be by their sides the whole time.  
89P09 hadn’t lasted long after having been brought in with him. They had been experimented on chemically, blotches of bald spots and purpled skin under matted fur made that clear. She had died after a week in his containment, simply falling to the floor of her cage one night when her lungs had decided to collapse. He couldn’t help but think it was for the best.  
In fact, after the passing of 89P12, Rocket couldn’t help but wish he could join them. Escape the pain. He remembered 89P12 the most, he had been tossed into the cage across from him, writhing and breathing sporadically as though there were something pressing on his lungs restricting his airway. 89P12 had been in cybernetic operations for so long that Rocket could have sworn he was more metal than animal at that point. Shards of it stuck out of its chest and legs, wires spiraling from one limb to the next and coiling from its ears.  
It wasn’t until one night, after the white coats had dropped his bloody and sparking body back into the cage that Rocket had decided to do anything about it. He hated being alone. Couldn’t stand the thought of being left alone in the dark room again, waiting for the next white coat to come in and strap him to that table again. That didn’t stop him from reaching out through the bars that night and tugging on one of the wire connecting 89P12 to the battery-pack beside him.  
A part of him wished he was able to pull the plug on himself at the moment as Callaghan continued to prod at his back, trailing the scarred tissue with a cold hand and pinching at the skin around his own augmentations.  
No! He chided himself, don’t think like that, they’ve got to be coming for you. They wouldn’t leave you. Not Groot. Not Quill-  
You left him. You yelled at him. He knows you don’t trust him. Why would he save you? They probably didn’t even notice you were gone.  
“I wonder how deep these go, what they connect to.” Helena reached over his head, scanning the prongs for herself. “They look like spinal augmentations, but it’s got them here too.” She said, reaching under him and brushing the metal on his chest with her other hand. “Whoever creating this thing was a mad genius, these modifications are extremely sophisticated. It even shows signs of self-concept, genetics must have been tampered with as well.”  
Stop. His legs quickly gave out, not that they cared as they flipped him over, leering over his chest and the prongs sticking out there. “Hand me the scalpel, we need to see where this all connects.” Helena nodded eagerly, suddenly disappearing from Rocket’s view.  
“Stop!” Callaghan smiled pitifully at the choked plea, reaching up to give him a condescending pat between the ears.  
“Don’t you worry, you won’t feel a thing my friend.” He assured him before turning back to his partner. “Make sure to increase the dose on the anesthetic.”  
Rocket was in a panicked mindset now, every thought racing at a mile a minute through his head while his restrained body failed to comply, sitting unbearably still atop the table, not even flinching when the long needle came into view.  
He couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything. He felt he tears finally fall when the needle came down by his neck, aiming above the collar and under the raccoon’s jawline. He didn’t even know he had been screaming in panic until a hand wrapped itself around his muzzle, forcing the shout to a weakened whimper. His body jerked when he felt the prick of the needle, his mind somehow becoming even hazier when the syringe was emptied into his bloodstream.  
It seemed they were too eager to wait for him to fall into complete unconsciousness either because he felt the burning pain of a knife against his chest not a moment after.  
His whimpering stopped and his head fell back against the table, world slowly fading back to darkness. He wondered if he would wake up from this one.  
“Rocket!”  
…  
“…not waking up… can’t keep… lost cause…”  
“Get out.”  
Rocket’s head hurt again and as his memories began to flood back to him, he was suddenly afraid to open his eyes. He could feel wires in his arm and could hear the heart monitor behind him, he didn’t know how far they had gone with their experimentation, but he was afraid he would see 89P12’s body were he to look down.  
“Come on buddy.”  
Rocket frowned, that didn’t sound like Callaghan. In fact, it sounded familiar in a much more relieving way. “Hey! Hey, Rocket. You up buddy?”  
It took him every ounce of courage to open his eyes, squinting against the light and finding himself face-to-face with none other than Peter.  
“There ya go, you with me Rocket.”  
Rocket stared back blankly, his eyes scanning the room. Of course they would take him to a hospital. “What happened?” he asked, cringing at the soreness of his throat. “How did you-“ He was interrupted by his own furious fit of coughing.  
“We got you out of there, turns out Nova’s been tracking us all since the Kyln. Call them paranoid, but it bodes well in a pinch huh?” He laughed, handing Rocket a small pill. He took it greedily, placing it on his tongue and sighing with relief when it dissolved, filling his mouth with a sparkly sensation and relieving his throat from its dry feeling. “They didn’t think you would wake up…”  
Rocket raised an eyebrow before lowering his gaze. Neat stitches closed the cut they had drawn over his chest. “Me either.” He admitted. He had no doubt that he would recover from one cut, he had survived far worse without the help of hospital assistance. What he was surprised about was the fact that they had come at all.  
“You were out for over a week, blood loss and I guess you have some wires that had been sliced through. They kept telling us you might not wake up.”  
Rocket frowned, sensing the urgency in Quill’s voice. “I do trust you ya know.”  
The man looked up, his eyes wet with unshed tears. “What?”  
“Earlier, we- I… I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I didn’t- that I don’t…” His eyes trailed warily to the IV in his wrist, anything to avoid Quill’s gaze at this point as he let out a shaky breath in his frustration.  
Peter sat up straight holding his hands out in a calming gesture.  
“Wow, hey. It was a stupid fight okay? We- I was stupid to leave you after what happened and I was stupid to accuse you of that. I know you’re trying bud, we’ve all got our issues, and I’m willing to work with you on this as long as you promise to at least try. Tell me what’s wrong, I want to help.” He explained, his hand darting daringly close to Rocket’s face as though to stroke him. A motion that was meant with a violent flinch.  
Rocket felt his stomach drop again as Peter pulled back cautiously, his ever-present smile suddenly looking horribly forced. “Sorry, still working out the bugs I guess. Not used to people touching me like that.” Quill nodded, looking up hopefully as the raccoon was beginning to cooperate.  
He sat back in his chair, looking at the door, hoping one of the others had decided to come join him. The only noise for what felt like an eternity was the beeping of Rocket’s heart monitor and his own breathing. Two noises that he was beginning to grow tired of over the last week.  
“Quill?” Peter turned abruptly at the sudden change of pace, despite how timidly it was spoken. Rocket hadn’t moved much since waking up, surprising seeing as though he had woken up in a hospital, but now he couldn’t really seem to keep still. His legs were shifting subconsciously under the sheets and his fingers were tearing up individual fibers in the sheets as though trying to preoccupy with himself.  
“You can- I mean, could you- uh, do that thing you were gonna do?”  
Peter couldn’t help but laugh. “What, you mean pet you?” He asked.  
Rocket just nodded, still watching his hand as he slowly tore a hole into the mattress. “Yeah, that.”  
“You sure?”  
He shrugged, his movements becoming even more uncomfortable if that was even possible. “You don’t have to, I was just thinking that maybe-“ He stopped talking when a sudden pressure brushed the back of his neck. He stiffened, the anxious shifting halting abruptly as Peter ran a hand down his exposed back, careful to evade the scars there. It wasn’t until about three or four strokes that Rocket was able to breathe again, his body relaxing slightly as he let himself get lost in the sensation.  
“Thank you.”


	8. The First Time and the Last Time

More trouble than it’s worth  
Hopeless  
Freak  
Useless vermin  
The words repeated themselves over again, another shudder racing up the creature’s spine as he stared at the gun in his paws, smoke still rising off of the nozzle in a stream of grey that made his lip curl.  
Another one dead.  
He couldn’t remember how many he had killed now. He didn’t know how many were guilty or innocent or had just been caught by the raging creature at the wrong time. He didn’t know how many of them had families who would never see them again had or if they had even meant to have pushed him like they did. All he knew now was that they were dead. He was sure that if he were recognized as an actual citizen, he would have been prison bound already if not shot himself. Thankfully he was just an animal.  
Or he thought he was. To be honest, he really couldn’t really tell what he was anymore. The only others like him had died in the experimental process, many of the smaller species collapsing under the weight of their metal infused bones. But the creatures he had found since then didn’t smell of metal or blood. And they certainly didn’t sound like him.  
But he wasn’t a person. People didn’t look at each other the way the taller species on this planet he had landed on looked at him, their lips curling up into a snarl and even shouting warnings to those who walked the path with them of the stumbling creature beside them.  
He had tried to be good. To keep that rage that had boiled up under his skin back in the white hall quelled. He hated the rage, hated the way it blinded his actions, clouded his thoughts, made him raise the guns. He had tried to put them down but one had always ended up in his hands at the end, pointing to another angry person’s head. He knew he deserved what they did to him, the shouting and the kick in the stomach he got when he tried to pilfer food or that shiny gold piece on the corner that had caught his eye.  
He looked down to face the fallen body in front of him, the once drunken man hardly recognizable with the burning hole in his head. Another shiver shook his body, making the fur on the back of his neck stand on end, the same place the man had grabbed him from. He knew there would be bruising under the matted fur, even in his dizzyingly drunken state, the man had not been gentle in lifting the ‘thieving rat’ from the ground.  
“What was that?”  
His head snapped to the side, facing the frightened voice. There was someone in the house still. A mate. A child. It didn’t matter. All he knew was that he had to run, had to get out of there before-  
“Oh God!”  
Run.  
He was on all fours, nails scraping against pavement as he bolted for the nearest alleyway, tying to ignore the terrified cries behind him. He couldn’t stop now, couldn’t get caught now. The wallet he had clutched in one hand- no, paw, reminded him of the first time he had been captured by one of the kinder humanoids.  
His stomach and chest were still healing from the knife the creature had used to slice through his skin. Although this wallet was much fuller. He hadn’t planned on taking the thing, but when the drunk man fell and the thing toppled out of his pocket, it was the first thing he had reached for. And as much as he wanted to regret he decision as he left the man and his traumatized friend behind, he couldn’t seem to bring himself to give into that guilt, to drop the thing where he was.  
Despite being on a new planet as the man in blue had brought him to Xandar, he was still finding it just as hard to find ways of keeping himself fed. At least here, he wasn’t competing with anyone for garbage scraps.  
Rocket almost tripped over his own feet when he saw the blinding light, then again, he probably would have were he able to move.  
He angled his head upwards, trying to find the source of the orange lights that made him feel numb and shaky.  
“Subject 89P13.” His breath hitched as he tried to struggle out of the immobilizing beam but it held him still as a shadowed figure began to make its way toward him through the alleyway, holding a gun in front of it and pointed directly at the raccoon. “You are under arrest for suspected thievery and multiple accounts of murder. Drop your weapons.”  
Rocket complied, the sickening feeling in his stomach not wavering for a moment as his hand opened up just enough to let his own blaster fall from his possession along with the wallet he had been clutching.  
The figure came closer and grabbed him roughly, pulling him out of the beam, which soon disappeared back into the ship above them. A pair of glowing cuffs were fitted around his wrists, looking quite comical on such a small being to the point where he could hardly hold himself up in a standing position once the figure let go, moving to push him from behind onto the platform of the ship that had come to a landing just outside the alleyway.  
“Subject 89P13, you have the right to remain silent until…” He stopped listening, his form suddenly becoming stiff even as he stumbled onto the platform and was shoved into a locked room.  
He had rights. He was being arrested. Rocket frowned, tilting his head and staring at the locked door. Being arrested was bad… right? To be honest, he didn’t really understand the concept, all he really knew was that no one ever wanted to go to prison, but then again, he had already escaped one, how bad could this one be?  
…  
Bad, this was bad.  
Not two hours in his cell and he had already torn someone’s face off and broken another cell-mate’s leg. He never talked to the security guards, saw no reason in explaining himself seeing as though he barely understood why he did it himself.  
He had been moved to a cell separate from the bustling hallways and conjoining rooms, the bars being replaced with solid walls. That he didn’t mind actually, the new room reminded him less of a cage than the last, but the lack of noise and inmates made him uneasy. Like he had been left with far too much time alone to think and wonder and worry about what might happen to him in this dark room.  
It seemed as though fate was on his side however as the heavy door slid open. Rocket squinted at the harsh light, growling lowly in the back of his throat as a shadow cast itself in the doorway. He sunk lower into his bunk, furrowing his eyebrows and crossing his arms stubbornly across his chest.  
The guards had tried multiple times to get the raccoon’s cooperation, whether it be venturing out of his room and not tearing anyone’s face off or even getting what little information he had on the damned labs out of him. And they had been quick to realize that the latter was usually what usually caused the ringtail to send anyone within a good ten foot radius to the medical ward.  
He assumed that they were trying to starve him out now, trying to force his to cooperate by no longer bringing him trays of food as they had when he had first received the ‘punishment’ of solitary confinement, not that he minded. He had survived a lot longer without food, and he guards here didn’t seem like they were about to let any of their inmates die of starvation, so Rocket kept up his uncooperative routine, not even speaking to them anymore if he could help it.  
“I am Groot.”  
He raised a brow, glancing at the tall shadow as it stepped into the room.  
“Mhmm, so you said.” Rocket could barely make out the guard behind the larger being as he pushed the creature further into the room.  
Rocket glared at the figures, now thoroughly confused. “What’s going on?” He asked suspiciously, eyeing the taller inmate as it was forced to arch its neck in order to even stand up in the room.  
“Well I think we finally found a cellmate that you won’t be able to tear apart.” The guard explained, and although Rocket couldn’t make out his face, he knew there was probably a smug grin lining her lips, only making him sink that much further into his bunk.  
“I thought I was in solitary confinement.” He argued, making sure to show his teeth as he snarled at the newcomer, just the creature’s pure massiveness had him on edge, every hair on his body sticking straight up.  
“See you both in the mess hall.” The guard returned mockingly, waving at the slightly panicked raccoon as the door slid closed behind them, leaving the two in an awkward silence.  
Rocket swallowed hard. He had yet to move an inch out of his slouched position on the bed, but his body had gone stiff as a board, ears sticking straight up and listening for any movement from the stranger lest he try to flatten the much smaller inmate with his massive foot right then and there.  
The raccoon had been placed in this room for a good reason, it seemed as though the Nova officers patrolling the place didn’t take kindly to finding three of his cellmates in a bloody scraped up mess on the floor, but none of it had been unwarranted. If anything, he would have been the bloodstained mess of limbs on the floor if he had let them have their way.  
Just looking at the lumbering giant in front of him had scenarios running like mad through his panicked mind.  
He almost leapt out of his skin entirely when a hand shaped smile came particularly close to him. It was only after flinching violently away that he noticed the hand was not grabbing for him, but rather reaching out in a welcoming gesture. No one had ever tried shaking hands with him before, but he assumed that this was what the thing in front of him was trying to signal for.  
So, ignoring every instinct in his body, Rocket mirrored the gesture, tentatively holding out his own hand and meeting the larger one. His heart jumped into his throat when the long fingers clasped themselves around his own, it was weird with the immense size difference, he was sure the thing could have easily crushed every bone in his paw with just one squeeze, but instead, the thing’s grip was surprisingly gentle… and rough. Was this bark?  
“I am Groot!” They called in a low voice, his voice sounding almost excited as he shook their hands up and down in a welcoming gesture.  
The ringtail quirked a brow, looking up at the creature, trying to figure out exactly what this guy was made of. “Uh… Rocket.” He answered, feeling even more uncomfortable the longer the handshake continued.  
It seemed as though the tree could sense his discomfort however as his grip loosened, allowing Rocket to pull back his own hand quickly.  
“You can sit down you know.” He stated plainly, Groot had yet to move from where he stood by the raccoon, head practically scraping the ceiling as he turned to look about the small cell. Rocket could swear he could hear Groot smiling as he moved to sit down on the bed next to him.  
“Not here idiot!” He called aggressively, pressing himself against the wall as to keep from getting sat on. Groot paused, glancing at the ringtail as though confused. “You’ve got your own bunk man, use it.” He answered, gesturing across the room to the unused bed in the corner.  
Groot’s gaze followed to where Rocket had pointed before grinning again and taking one long stride to the other bed and dropping himself down on the creaky piece of furniture.  
God this was awkward.  
“What’d you do to get landed here anyway?” He asked. He wasn’t a very social guy, but the tree’s unwavering gaze, even from across the room (which arguably was only about ten feet away) had him even more uncomfortable.  
Groot’s shoulders hunched slightly. “I… am Groot.”  
Rocket let out a sigh. “You mentioned that.” He stated plainly, knowing full well where this was going.  
“I am Groot.”  
His ears flattened against his head in irritation. Go figure.  
“That’s about all you can say isn’t it?”  
Groot just nodded, letting out a low rumble as though refraining from making his trademark statement again. He almost felt bad for embarrassing the guy, it wasn’t his fault they couldn’t communicate. At least the tree could understand him. But it was irritating that the one inmate that didn’t look like they wanted to skin him alive also couldn’t hold a conversation with him.  
Then again, he wasn’t really the conversation type anyway.  
Two heads swiveled toward the door as it slid open slowly. The thing was on a timer, set to open automatically during feeding times, not that Rocket ever payed much attention. If anything, he cared more about which moron was going to try their luck by wandering into the room.  
The guards kept most of the other jailbirds in their own areas, it was called solitary for a reason, but a few stragglers had managed to get through at one point or another, hoping to get their revenge on the vermin, only walking (or crawling in most cases) away with even more claw-marks and bite wounds than before.  
He had even caught wind that one of those idiots who had posed as a particularly large threat to the ring-tail had gone into intensive care for a punctured artery. Which was why most of the guards, despite their heavily armored bodies and weapons at their sides seemed especially on edge around him.  
It was because of this that Rocket wasn’t too put off by the wary gaze of the officer who had approached the door. They always came to remind him that he was on a tight leash. He could only hold off on eating for so long before he was forced to finally venture out of the dark room, and cooperation was something Rocket really wasn’t apt to giving up so easily.  
However, Rocket noticed, as the blue-clad man hurriedly explained to the two prisoners that their hour of free reign had begun, that he was not looking at the raccoon at all, but rather eyeing the tree to his right with a great amount of suspicion, his hand even edging toward the gun at his belt as though the non-verbal log would suddenly lunge.  
Then again, there was a rather large bandage wrapped around the guy’s wrist and a few splinters of wood littering the blue suit now that Rocket really looked. He probably would have commented upon his observation did Groot not look as equally threatened, a few stray twigs growing up from his shoulders in jagged directions, something that probably came as an instinctive response to fear for the guy. Because it wasn’t like Rocket hadn’t noticed the smoldering black spot in the tree’s chest.  
Rocket’s musings about the origins of either wound were cut off as Groot stood up, effectively scaring off the guard as he practically bolted back from where he came. The moss covered creature stared towards the brightly lit hallway, swaying calmly as though waiting for something.  
“I am Groot?”  
Rocket looked almost offended at the gesture as Groot pointed towards the door, obviously wondering why the smaller creature wasn’t following. “Nah, you go ahead.” He responded, waving him off with a clawed hand.  
Groot frowned, switching his gaze from the raccoon to the open door and back again. Groot hummed lowly again before turning and dropping back to the mattress of his bunk again, although still staring longingly at the door.  
“You know, just because we’re roomed together don’t mean we’re locked into the buddy system.” He stated calmly. It wasn’t that he wanted to get rid of the guy, he actually quite liked the quiet company so far, but they needed some space, right? Rocket put himself at a couple days before he finally caved and forced himself to leave the room to eat something, but he wasn’t about to allow his surprisingly clingy cell-mate to subject himself to the same treatment.  
Groot didn’t move, simply staring at the door as though nervous to leave at this point. And Rocket didn’t really blame him, despite the creature’s massive size, the tree didn’t really seem like the type of guy who was used to this kind of scenario of ‘fight or die’ and to be honest, Rocket couldn’t really think of a better time to break his hunger strike than with the lumbering being with him.  
Letting out a sigh of defeat, Rocket pushed himself off the cot, waving half-heartedly over his shoulder for Groot to follow, a command the tree reacted to quickly, falling into step so close behind the raccoon that he feared his tail would get crushed.  
Rocket regretted his decision only moments after leaving the safety of his room, body stiffening with every sideways glance he got. The guards themselves looked surprised to say the least, eyes widening slightly and watching as their stubborn prisoner paced quickly towards the larger hallways, tree-man in tow.  
His ears were tucked tightly against the back of his head by the time he found a dented table far enough away from the other bustling inmates to sit down at. Groot struggled to slide in beside him, tucking his legs in tightly in order to fit them under the low bench.  
Rocket let out an annoyed growl, pushing at his wooden ribcage. “Move over man, give a guy some space would ya?”  
Not looking offended in the least, Groot complied, grinning as he did so.  
It wasn’t much room, but Rocket couldn’t really complain, he actually enjoyed the thought of someone wanting to sit near him, but his was beginning to make him feel claustrophobic all the same.  
Now that he could smell the food wafting through the air (although prison food) he could feel his gut churning with hunger. Eyeing the tables across the room, food slowly being picked away by other prisoners, Rocket finally decided to risk the trip. “Hey, stay here and save my seat alright?” He directed Groot, pushing himself off the side of the bench. Groot nodded, continuing to look around curiously at their new surroundings, even waving towards a few inmates that had been staring at the odd pair since sitting down.  
Rocket just rolled his eyes before making his way across the room, none of the food look all that appetizing, but his growling stomach didn’t seem to mind the putrid smell that would otherwise have sent another running. He didn’t even meet the eyes of the lady behind the table who handed him the plastic tray, he could already feel her eyes on him.   
So far so good though. He had food, no one was bleeding, and there weren’t any men in blue surrounding him and bombarding him with invasive questions. He called that a success to say the least.  
Then again, nothing ever went his way. “That thing’s still alive?” His ears perked up at the voice and Rocket almost paused in his walk back to Groot, back to safety. He continued pressing forward though, hoping maybe the guy would allow him to keep moving, the last thing he needed right now was another blood bath, he felt like he was in enough trouble as it was, and if he wanted to get out of this hell-hole any time soon, he was going to need to keep a low profile.  
Not that that plan had really worked so far. “I’d thought they would have put it down by now. Why they even keepin him alive? The Nova core finally getting themselves a proper mascot? Didn’t know they allowed pets here.”  
Rocket knew they were trying to gain his attention, they were speaking far too loudly not to.  
“Nah, I heard they’ve got ‘em in solitary, givin him ‘is own little room and everything, trying to figure out where he came from, wanna make sure nothin else like that happens again.” Rocket hadn’t realized that he had stopped walking altogether until he heard one of the morons stand up, approaching the raccoon far too quickly for him to react.  
“Hey!” He shouted, grasping frantically at the hand that gripped the nape of his neck, holding him in place while the second hand pulled at the back of his yellow shirt, pulling it up and exposing the scarred mess that made up his back.  
“Surprised they haven’t just taken you in for experimentation themselves, it’s only a matter of time before they get tired of your stupid mug.”  
Rocket let out a growl of warning, his breathing becoming incredibly stressed as he struggled to pull the shirt down again. “Get your damn hand off me.” He said through gritted teeth. He saw a guard out of the corner of his eye, but it looked like the blue clad officer was more invested in the metal in his back than the actual situation at hand.  
The one holding him just chuckled. “Yeah? Or what?”  
“Or I’m gonna show ya what I did to make your friends face over there so pretty.” He responded, pointing to where one of the others that had been speaking sat, his right eye covered in a gauze patch and reddened bite-marks on his neck.  
Rocket was furious. No, he was more than furious, he was livid, humiliated and regretting ever leaving that damn room. So, without giving him a chance to remove his hand, (not that he believed that he would have anyway) Rocket lashed out, claws gleaming in the white light at blinding speeds, slicing through air and cloth and skin. They came back into his view red.  
The hand that had been holding him hadn’t let go however. In fact, the one at the base of his neck only tightened more, sending a sharp pain throughout his spine before he was flying. He crashed into an aluminum table with a sickening crack as the raccoon fell into a crumpled position on the floor, his breathing suddenly panicked and rigid.  
“You little freak! You’re gonna pay for that!”  
His initial shock of getting thrown roughly across the room had begun to pass just as he began to register the other inmates in their movements towards him. He pushed himself up only to collapse again, a heavy fist meeting with the back of his head. A kick to the stomach caused him to double in on himself again and another to the head left his ears ringing and his head swirling in a vat of confusion and panic as black spots danced in front of him.  
He closed his eyes upon seeing the larger and rather bloodied prisoner lift his boot again, aiming for his head. Rocket was wondering if someone was finally going to end it all for him, having his skull crushed didn’t seem like the worst way to go, when he felt another force reaching underneath him and lifting him up into a sturdy hold.  
His hearing was still pretty much shot, but judging by the commotion around him, he was certain that it hadn’t been a Nova officer to have lifted into a protective embrace.  
Rocket opened his eyes only to find the scene all the more confusing. The man who had been toying with his implants was face-down on the floor, red liquid seeping from his probably broken nose. Other inmates surrounding them seemed to be in a mix of panic and anger, half either bolting from the room or simply backing away slowly from where he lay curled up and battered, while the other half was a mix of furious inmates and armed guards, seemingly unsure of what to do.  
The most confusing part was who it was that held him. He knew right away judging by the rough texture of the skin (bark?) that it was Groot to have lifted him off the ground, and it was Groot to have left the attacker in an unconscious heap on the floor. But why?  
If anything, Rocket saw himself as an initiation ritual by this point. If you wanted to get in with the ‘cool kids’ you’ve gotta give the freak a good kick to the side. It was weird and almost unnerving to have someone that wasn’t trying to question him about his ‘creation’ trying to protect him from those trying to hurt him. Not that he didn’t appreciate it, his claws were even digging deep into the arm that cradled him as though afraid Groot would suddenly come to his senses and drop him right then and there.  
Groot’s grip seemed to tighten as well however, his own hold tightening, pressing the raccoon into his chest while the other arm continued to mask the exact opposite reaction, growing thorned and angular stems that lashed out at anyone who even tried to take a step closer.  
His hearing had yet to clear up in the slightest, but he knew that the guards were yelling for the tree to back down and one or two of them were even holding their electrified weapons towards the ring-tail.  
He really couldn’t bring himself to care enough to do anything other than sit there however, clawing the bark tightly as blackness finally consumed his vision entirely.  
…  
He woke up to the same feeling of rough wood beneath him, and for one blissful moment, he almost considered simply going back to sleep. Although it seemed as though someone else had taken notice of his regained consciousness. “I am Groot?”  
His eyes snapped open at the voice, remembering exactly what it was providing him the comfortable position. Rocket was off in an instant, swiping weakly at the hand that moved to stop him as he distanced himself from his cell-mate.  
He looked around, a calming sensation filling upon realizing that he had woken up back in their dark cell, away from any prying eyes, and not in the interrogation room like the past few instances.  
He didn’t say a word or even give Groot a second glance as he moved from Groot’s bunk where they had been sitting and over to his own, pulling himself onto the old mattress, his back and sides aching as he did so.  
“I am Groot?”  
Rocket just frowned and shook his head. “Fine, happens all the time, kinda why I’m in here in the first place.” He answered, gesturing to the enclosed cell. “I don’t get along too well with others.”  
“You can say that again.” Rocket tensed visibly upon hearing the voice, he knew the guards weren’t about to let his little stunt slide so easily. “You two put the guy in intensive care.”  
Rocket hadn’t turned away from the wall. He didn’t want to talk and he wasn’t afraid to let the others know. “Good.” He answered plainly.  
“We can move you somewhere safer. If you would just-“  
“I ain’t answering any of your questions, so you can just forget about it.” The raccoon snapped. They offered him a way ‘out’ every time this happened, a journey to the interrogation room, they had one time even offered to trade his freedom for a week in the hands of some Xandarian doctors, an offer to have been quickly disregarded.  
The guard looked irritated to say the least. Rocket could tell they were growing impatient with him and he was beginning to wonder if that idiot in the cafeteria was right, if they would just stop caring after a while, start tearing him apart whether he consented or not. He shuddered at the thought and brought himself that much closer to the wall.  
“You’re making this a lot harder on yourself than it needs to be 89P13.”  
Rocket was gritting his teeth at the string of numbers, about ready to lash out again. However, it seemed as though someone beat him to the punch.  
The guard let out a startled noise when the second, much taller, prisoner brought himself up to full height (or as much as he could without hitting his head on the ceiling) effectively intimidating the officer. “I am Groot.” He stated in a low rumble, walking towards the door at an alarming pace. Rocket still couldn’t make out a word he was saying, but it was obvious to both him and the guard what it meant. Get out.  
The door slid closed with an electric ‘beep’ before Groot could make it all the way across the room, the guard side stepping through the entryway, leaving the two alone again. Groot didn’t move, still staring at the metal door as though expecting it to open again suddenly.  
Rocket couldn’t help but chuckle. “I don’t think he’s coming back.” He said with a roll of the eyes. He had sat up a bit in his bunk, still facing towards the wall that he had been studying for the past few weeks, but was still able to give Groot an appreciative nod. “Scared him off I think.”  
Groot gave the door one last look before turning to face Rocket again, his head turned at an angle as though trying desperately to figure something out. The raccoon’s gaze switched back to the wall quickly, avoiding the eye contact. He was doing pretty well at pretending like his cell-mate wasn’t even there until he felt a heavy presence behind him.  
Fur on end, Rocket turned slightly, finding Groot only inches from his bunk, his hand wavering just above his ears, as though trying to- “Hey, hey! Keep that flarkin shit to yourself.” He growled out hurriedly, swiping at the hand. “I’m not a pet.”  
Groot pulled back his hand, looking almost offended by the comment, but not arguing all the same. “I am Groot.” He said softly, pointing to the side of his head he was about to make contact with.  
Rocket frowned, lifting his hand to reach the spot directly below his ear. His fingers came away slightly red and he knew that his fur was probably caked in dried blood from the blow earlier. He just huffed out an annoyed laugh. “That’s gonna be a bitch to get out.” He murmured, wincing in pain as the broken skin began to throb with pain. “ow.”  
He flinched again as Groot let out a low hum, his hand unnervingly close to him again, this time holding something out in his palm. “What’s this?” He asked skeptically, pointing at the green item to have mysteriously appeared in his hand. Groot didn’t answer, just thrusting his hand closer, gesturing at Rocket impatiently.  
He could tell the language barrier was increasingly frustrating to the flora, and Rocket did his best to understand, following the gesture by grasping the think leaf and plucking it from Groot’s palm. “Wow, did you grow this?” He asked, eyeing the stem of the hard plant that had just detached from the appendage.  
Groot nodded, his frustrated frown growing into a smile, looking almost proud of himself as he pointed to the stiff leaf. “I am Groot.”  
Rocket looked back down at the object, following instruction and snapping it in two, eyes widening as a think liquid seeped from the break. It felt sticky on his fingers and he let out a quiet ‘yuck’ as he raised the goop to the open wound, only flinching for a moment in surprise as the cool salve touched the scabbed area.  
“… thanks.” He stated quietly, feeling the numbing agent already taking affect.  
“I am Groot?” Rocket glanced warily towards Groot again when he moved to sit of the edge of the bunk, but didn’t force him away. The tree looked at him worriedly, hands entangled with each other as though trying keep from reaching out towards him again.  
Rocket was actually quite grateful for the tree’s acceptance of his ‘no touchy’ rule. It was obvious that Groot was a social creature, he was constantly trying to receive physical contact, something Rocket had noticed even if just over the past day or so of rooming with the guy. Unfortunately for him, Groot had been matched with his polar opposite.  
Rocket hated physical contact. Every touch, every move towards him made his nervous. Just having Groot on the same bed as him at the moment had his tail sticking straight and left his fur on end. Anyone within a ten foot radius was an instant threat. Someone that would hurt him, gab him, take him apart again. So he avoided it. As much as he could at least.  
“You know, you’ve got quite a temper on ya.” He said at last. The silence mixed with Groot’s unwavering stare was making him uncomfortable again. “Sounds like you really beat the shit out of that guy.” His voice was casual  
Groot stared down at his hands again, looking almost embarrassed. “I am Groot.” He said slowly.  
Rocket quirked an eyebrow. “Not that that’s a bad thing. Means you can take care of yourself. Probably what got ya locked up in here with me though huh?”  
Groot nodded, glaring at a spot on his arm that looked especially splintered. “Does it hurt?”  
Groot looked up from where he was absent-mindedly picking at the broken bark, pulling out – holy shit were those bullets? “Wow, what happened?” He didn’t recall the guards being armed with lethal weapons. What did he miss?  
The tree just shook his head. “I am Groot.” He said hurriedly, trying to assure the ring-tail that he was okay. Rocket was having none of it though, guilt settling in the pit of his stomach. This was his fault, he had gotten shot trying to protect Rocket.  
“Don’t even try that shit with me, you’re shot.” He said, actually reaching forward to pull Groot’s forearm into his lap. “Quit picking, you’re fingers are too big, you’re just makin it worse.” His nimble fingers were at work in an instant, digging gently into the bark, with his claws. Judging by the lack of reaction, Rocket assumed that the feeling didn’t actually hurt Groot, probably due to the thick hide and deeper nerve endings, but he seemed shocked nonetheless.  
“Do you mind?” Rocket lifted his gaze just high enough to glare at the gawking tree. Groot looked down instantly, looking instead at the thin sheet atop the mattress as his other hand picked absent-mindedly at the fabric.  
Rocket felt himself relax a bit. It was uncomfortable enough simply being this close to the guy, picking bullets out of his arm no less, but the feeling of Groot’s wide eyes staring down at him made him tense with uncertainty. It was still horribly awkward, sitting there with Groot’s arm in his lap, but at least he could no longer feel the burning sensation of his eyes boring into the back of his head and allowed him a chance to breathe.  
“Sorry about your arm.” He tensed again when Groot’s fingers stopped playing with the blanket out of the corner of his eye and the burning sensation was back again before the tree returned to his avoiding gaze and distracting himself with the material.  
“I am Groot.” The arm moved as the giant shrugged and Rocket huffed out an annoyed growl as he pulled it back, fingers working around the last piece of metal that had wedged itself especially deep into his wrist.  
“I mean, I’m grateful and all.” He explained hurriedly at Groot’s solemn response. “But you didn’t need to step in like that. The guards here wouldn’t let me slip away so easily when I still haven’t answered any of their questions.” He assured him, still trying to brush away splinters and growing vines that were trapping the bullet inside. “It’s happened before, why I don’t usually… leave.” He trailed off, realizing that he was only talking for the sake of talking now, it’s not like Groot had really asked.  
He felt his stomach clench up however at the reminder, realizing that he had left the confines of his cell for no reason, he was still hungry and he had gotten Groot shot. Rocket was beginning to wonder if the trouble followed him or if he just so happened to find it wherever he went, but either way, he felt guilty for allowing Groot to get himself caught in the cross-fire.  
He could feel the tree’s gaze on him again but kept quiet as he finally dislodged the last bullet from the thick wood. “There.” He mumbled lowly, tossing the bullet aside.  
Groot raised his wrist, inspecting Rocket’s work before beaming once again. He hummed in appreciation. Leaning down as though to grab the raccoon in a tight embrace again. His smile only faltered when Rocket flinched away violently, almost falling back on the bed, as instinctual panic clouded his mind.  
Groot pulled back slowly, looking at Rocket sadly, but didn’t push the issue, instead standing up and moving back to his own side of the room, saying one more ‘I am Groot’ as he sat down, gesturing to his quickly healing arm.  
Rocket just nodded towards him, still slightly in panic mode as he sunk lower in his firm mattress, turning his back to the colossus and staring at the wall until sleep took him once again.  
…  
Loud noises, drilling, shouting, screaming. His screaming.  
Rocket woke up to the sound, quickly clamping his mouth shut the moment his eyes snapped open, facing the same wall he had fallen asleep to. The dull grey of the concrete was actually comforting to him compared to the stark white walls in his dream.  
His breathing was strained and uneven, his body tucked in a tight ball, wanting to disappear in on himself. He hadn’t really expected anything else when his eyes slid shut, but the shaking of his body and lack of breath didn’t ease due to the awareness.  
He took another shaky breath, gripping at the neck of his shirt as though it were restricting around his neck. The breathing stopped altogether when he heard the somewhat familiar rumble of a particular tree-man unnervingly close behind him.  
He wanted to apologize for waking Groot up, shout for him to leave him alone, open his eyes, anything. But he couldn’t even muster up the energy let alone the concentration to even allow himself to breathe again.  
He flinched slightly when Groot tapped his back tentatively before giving in and leaning into the feeling altogether. He felt so weak, so small and insignificant as Groot’s hand began rubbing circled into his back. But as his airways opened again, allowing him to gasp hungrily for air, he couldn’t help but feel something else.  
Comforted, cared for, important.  
Rocket was so overwhelmed by the sea of mixed emotions that he barely even registered the fact that he was being gathered up in a protective embrace until he was clinging tightly to the bark of Groot’s chest, the hand that had been rubbing his back now stroking the spot between his ears with surprising gentleness for such a large being.  
Neither spoke. Not that Rocket would have managed to get anything out anyway between his choked sobs and fighting for breath. Groot remained quiet as well however, the only sound he made being low whines of distress as he looked down worriedly at the ringtail.  
They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity before Rocket’s breathing had evened out again. He was exhausted, laying limply in Groot’s hold, sensing the feeling of guilt and embarrassment and distrust creep up on him all over again. At the same time, he wanted nothing more than to ignore his instincts altogether and stay in the place of Comfort and care and importance forever.  
He knew Groot was probably tired too however, most likely having woken up to Rocket’s screaming and had reached out to him in hopes of quieting him again.  
Rocket moved to release himself from Groot’s cradled hold when the arms around him tightened slightly. Rocket froze in surprise, looking up to face the larger being with a look of confusion when the hand atop his head resumed its steady strokes.  
“W-why?” Was all he was able to manage before the exhaustion of his previous panic attack began to take effect once again, his head falling limply against the other’s chest again.  
“I am Groot.” He answered quietly.  
And for the first time, it meant something more than those three words.

It took another three weeks for Rocket to come up with a strong enough plan to get them out of there, grateful that he had the muscle to pull it off now that Groot had taken to staying no more than a few feet from him at a time. Rocket had even allowed himself to fall asleep on the broad chest of the wooden being from time to time, not that either of them really minded.  
They left the prison as a burning building behind them, cackling almost maniacally as more of Rocket’s make-shift bombs sounded while the two raced through the streets.  
It wasn’t the last time the two broke out of prison, in fact, Rocket had another twenty-one prisons to add to the list, but it was the last time that Rocket had ever felt alone.


	9. Rocket and Groot Bounty Adventure

Rocket raised a furred brow, staring incredulously at the tree man in front of him as he continued to ogle childishly at the colorful items strewn about the many stands that lined the streets. The two had found the small market square late in the afternoon, as the second sun of Xandar was beginning to set.  
He rolled his eyes at Groot’s giddy humming as he ran his long finger tips against a few dangling wind-chimes, mimicking the high pitched sounds they made as he went. He wished he could find happiness in such simple things as Groot did. It would have been a lie to say that he wasn’t jealous of the wide and perfectly content face the colossus wore as he continued to run his hands over every object in sight, not even phased by the skeptical looks the shop owners gave him as he ran his hands over sweaters and scented candles alike.  
Instead, Rocket wore an irritated scowl, eyes darting side to side as though expecting one of the shop owners to pull a gun on the duo. But that was who he was. He had come to accept the fact that while Groot continues to become whimsically drawn to pretty much any everyday item like some child seeing the world for the first time, he was gonna see nothing but the worst.  
It didn’t really bother him anymore, it had been about a year since he had met Groot and the two had created some sort of a system for making ends meet. Hunting. Neither of them could really do it alone. While Groot wanted nothing more than to see the best in people, it was hard for him to flat out kill a guy unless it put his smaller friend in immediate danger, on the other hand, while Rocket had no problem blowing someone’s head clean off (sometimes he even looked forward to it) he lacked the brawn at his side to complete the façade.  
Rocket huffed and put his hands in the pockets of the sweatshirt Groot had found him, trying to make himself look smaller as one of the shop owners gave him a curious glance. He was sure that it was meant to fit a child, but if it kept his cybernetics covered and kept him warm despite the holes in the tattered fabric, he supposed he could look past the fact.  
The system continued on the streets too. Groot was the giddy, wide-eyed one that kept them out of trouble, while Rocket kept his eye on anything that moved, his vision locking in on anyone who posed a threat like a sniper to keep Groot from walking freely into a trap. They were such polar opposites that Rocket was starting to believe they could start their own cartoon show at this point, he already had the talking animal part down.  
He frowned further as a woman’s voice caught him off guard and Groot stopped in his tracks, causing Rocket to almost walk head-first into his long legs. He looked up gruffly to see the woman behind the stand holding out some kind of pastry towards the tree’s beaming face.  
“Sorry lady, but we ain’t got no money.” He called, pushing on Groot’s calf as though he could actually move the colossus along. The woman looks surprised to say the least, looking from side-to side momentarily before finally leaning slightly over the counter to see who it was that had spoken.  
She smiled fondly, her look of confusion disappearing entirely. “Oh, hello.” She said cheerily. Too cheerily for Rocket’s taste, this had to be some kind of trap, it always was with these folk, always trying to suck every last dollar from your pocket. Not that his were weighed down with a single cent at the moment.  
Bounties had been slow and without the right tech, it was hard to find out this kind of information in the first place.  
“I am Groot?”  
Rocket’s head snapped up suddenly, the hood falling from his head. “Groot, what did I just say? We don’t have any money.” He reminded him, pulling on the fabric of his pant pockets so that they fell inside out for show. “See? We can’t afford this fancy shit. Now come on.” He explained, returning his pockets to their respectable positions and resuming in trying to push the tree forward. He tried to ignore the low whine Groot let out, he really did feel bad that he couldn’t do anything to repay Groot for all he had sacrificed for the ring-tail, he really did, but- Damn, if that whine didn’t just break his heart as Groot finally began to stumble forward, the giddy smile falling slowly from his face.  
He let out a low sigh. “Hey lady.” The woman who had been pretending not to listen looked up, that stupid conniving grin spreading again. “You wouldn’t happen to accept IOU’s as payment would ya?” He knew it was a fruitless attempt, but at least it would make Groot stop with his sulking.  
The woman pursed her lips for a moment in thought, red eyes darting between the two before smiling again. “It’s on me hon.” She answered, quickly wrapping up the pastry and offering it towards Groot’s outstretched hand. The tree hummed happily, holding the treat up to his nostrils and inhaling deeply.  
Rocket only rolled his eyes again, glad the colossus was starting to move in the right direction again. They did have a bounty to catch, although according to their sources, they weren’t due for a couple hours on an incoming cargo ship.  
“Wait!” Rocket turned around, body going tense all over again at the sound, only to come face-to-face with a second steaming pastry as the woman leaned over the counter of her stand and within Rocket’s reach.  
Rocket stared for a moment, wondering again if this was a trap. Poisoned maybe. He shook his head. Why did he have to be so paranoid? “Uh, thanks.” He muttered, reaching out tentatively toward the morsel and taking it into his own hands. The woman only nodded, flashing him another smile before returning to her work.  
Groot grunted gently, pulling Rocket from his startled state of mind. He padded behind the colossus for a few moments of silence, watching as the crowd began to this out the further they made it past the stalls. It wasn’t until the two were fully out of the market place and the bustling crowd disappeared entirely that Rocket felt like he was able to actually breathe again.  
Rocket reached forward to pat the back of Groot’s leg, causing the taller of the two to stop in his tracks and look down towards the shorter. “We should stop here.” He stated plainly. He could see the docking station from where they were, and if there was one thing he had learned from past experience that revealing yourself to a bounty so early in a case almost never ended well.  
The raccoon’s ears twitched as Groot dropped down heavily into a sitting position beside him, nearly crushing his striped tail as he did so, not that Rocket had really been worried. As big as the colossus was, he took extra precaution to make sure the smaller teammate wouldn’t be caught underfoot.  
The tree himself was still humming happily as he looked at the pastry in his hands, holding it up just inches from his face as though studying the thing. Shaking his head, Rocket followed suit, plopping down on his partner’s knee and biting right into the sticky thing, not even caring when the sweet filling dripped off his chin.  
It took every ounce of self-control not to wolf the whole thing down in one bite after that. With the life he and Groot lived, it was rare that the two ever had the time, or even the resources for that matter, to actually enjoy a meal. More often than not, Rocket had them reverting to his habits on that backwater planet of digging through trash just to get them through another day.  
Groot didn’t really need food in the same way that Rocket did which had always made thing a lot simpler in a pinch, but Groot loved the sensation of it all nonetheless and it made Rocket feel almost jealous that the guy could stand gnawing on the corner of his pastry, savoring the moment instead of giving into the wrenching pain in his stomach that told him to just fucking eat the thing already.  
As though reading his mind, Groot turned slowly to face his shorter compatriot, smiling widely and bouncing his knees excitedly, jostling the irritable raccoon as he did. Rocket growled and drew back his ears, but the upward turn at the corner of his mouth gave him away.  
“Yeah, yeah, just eat your damn donut.” He managed, turning back to the last bite of his own treat and wolfing it down, frowning at his now empty hand.  
He turned again to face the colossus as a wooden hand came ever so close to him, holding out his own half-eaten pastry. Rocket just rolled his eyes and shoved the hand back, ignoring the gesture completely. The guy was too nice for his own good, not that it bothered him to have extra food thrown his way, hell knows that he was still hungry, but he sometimes wished Groot could be a little more selfish in order to balance out his own.  
Groot didn’t waste a second before going back to gnawing at the flakey crust again, chuckling lowly when some of the filling squished out one end and plopped itself on the top of Rocket’s perked ears. He let out a surprised yelp before glaring at the giggling tree.  
“’S not funny, Groot. You know how hard this stuff is to get out.” He whined, wiping at his ears before the stuff dried. He held back the urge to lick his palms and comb it out like every fiber of his body was telling him to do. Around Groot, Rocket had no problem with grooming himself, the colossus simply didn’t care whether or not the raccoon was combing back his fur or chewing idly at the end of his tail. But out in public, he had a reputation to uphold.  
A reputation that he had to remind himself of as the familiar whirring of a ship’s engine came into ear shot.  
He was on his feet in an instant. Forgetting about the sugary substance caking the top of his head and instead turning his attention toward the ship as it began to pull in for a landing. “Okay, here we go.” He announced, reaching into the pocket of the jacket and holding it out to his partner, not that Groot was paying him any attention as he tried to shield his food from the small dust cloud that was kicked up but the ship as the engines were cut.  
“Remember the plan alright? No playing nice, no stepping on me, and no un-cuffing the guy because his wrists hurt.” He said. The two had enough troubles with bounties as it was without Groot trying to make a new best friend along the way. Keep an eye out for Ms. 20K, beg ‘er, and get them to the ship. Simple.” He knew Groot wasn’t listening to a word he said, but at least this way he could use the ‘I told you’ excuse were things to go awry.  
The crumpled picture that their employer had given them was already committed to memory, but he took it out to study it again nonetheless, holding it up and comparing it to the passengers as the ship began to unload. His fingers hovered above his shoulders, ready to grab the pistol he had stashed in a harness. Nothing fancy, but any gun he could get his hands on at this point was a blessing.  
Groot was finally looking up, eyes flickering from the creased piece of paper to the passengers as they took off in their respective directions.  
“I am Groot?”  
Rocket shook his head, not daring to turn away from his mission at hand. “Their name? 20K is her name, stay on task man.”  
“I am Groot.”  
“Considerate? I don’t need to be considerate, it’s a bounty Groot, bounties don’t need names.” He tried to tune out the tree’s conversation, he needed to focus, what if their guy had already gotten away? He guessed if anything, they could always just take off with the small ship that they’re employer had provided them, take off to a nearby planet and start again.  
“I am Groot!” Rocket was almost launched off of Groot’s leg altogether as the colossus shouted excitedly, pointing towards the ship.  
“Wh-“ He raised the picture to place it beside the blue skinned alien that had stalked off of the ship, a black hood over its head and hands shoved in the pockets as though trying to hide, which she very well should have been considering there were two bounty hunters not thirty feet away. “That’s her! Come on!” Rocket took off running.  
They kept close to the walls, trying to keep out of sight until their bounty got somewhere quiet and less populated that the bustling streets. Not that going to prison was the worst case scenario, but it certainly was a hassle when there were twenty thousand units on the line.  
He didn’t know for how long they were following the hooded creature before Rocket had decided to make the call to move, but his hands were itching to shoot something. “Okay.” He held up a paw, motioning for Groot to stop before peering around the corner of the concrete building himself. “Grab and cuff ‘em when I’m done, we gotta get her back to the ship before the effects wear off.” He lectured, his pistol whirring in his hands as the electric shock began to charge.  
“Okay.” He whispered. “On my count we… Groot? Groot!”  
He couldn’t believe his luck… or lack of it. “I am Groot?” The Tree asked from ten feet away, holding the electrified cuffs up to the face of the hooded stranger. Did he just ask a bounty to put themselves in cuffs?  
“Wha?” She furrowed her brow, glaring daggers at the things.  
“I am Groot.” He answered cheerily. And Rocket almost turned the gun on himself as the colossus pointed a long spindly finger toward him, his body still half-hidden by the building and the gun, with a low blue glow as it charged completely in plain sight.  
The three stood there for a moment in a stunned silence, on that was quickly broken as the bounty began to run. Rocket let out an exasperated sigh, tugging at the fur on his face and shaking himself from his daze and taking off after her. She went down in a heap of twitching limbs as the blue blast of energy hit her square in the shoulders, yellow eyes rolling into the back of her head.  
…  
“I am Groot.” The colossus asked in an almost sing-song voice, poking his smaller partner in the side.  
Rocket swiped at the hand, letting out an annoyed growl as he did. “Groot, lemme drive.”  
“I am Groot?”  
“Wh- thank you? You almost let ‘em get away!” He snapped, swiping again at the hand as Groot refused to stop, his ever-present grin never leaving his damn smug face.  
“Oh my god, you are the worst bounty hunters ever.”  
Rocket grit his teeth as the girl shouted out in exasperation, her head falling back against the wall. They had managed to get her back to the ship before her yellow eyes had begun to open again, but Rocket was beginning to wonder if even taking her aboard was a good idea in the first place as the ship they had been provided didn’t seem to accommodate to the concept of ‘personal space.’ They had been flying for five hours already and he was beginning to fear his own mental stability.  
“Shut it. My head hurts enough without both of you assholes chewing off my ears.” He snapped. “Besides, out of the three of us, which one’s handcuffed to a pipe?” The girl frowned and Rocket could have sworn her eyes were glowing.  
Groot only chuckled and Rocket was beginning to believe if the size was just a misrepresentation and he had actually just partnered himself up with a toddler this whole time. “I am Groot.” He sang again, this time poking the ring-tail’s ear.  
Rocket rolled his eyes. “I’m not grumpy.” He growled, gripping the controls harder in his small hands and hunching his shoulders more as Groot prodded him.  
“You are kind of grumpy.”  
“I’m not grumpy! I’m just trying to stay on task since one of us is acting like a flarking child!” He snapped back, clawing at Groot’s hand as the colossus continues to flick at his twitchy ears. He rolled his eyes at the surprised whine Groot let out, inspecting the claw marks on his wooden wrist. The guy barely had any nerve endings, surely not enough for that to have hurt in the slightest so Rocket wasn’t really looking to apologize for the gesture.  
“Mhmm… and exactly how many bounties have you two taken in before this?” She asked. Rocket didn’t need to turn around to know she was smirking, and it took every ounce of control to keep him from turning around and knocking her out again.  
“Don’t answer that.” He grumbled just as Groot was about to answer, not that she would have understood anyway.  
He felt his right eye twitch as the handcuffed prisoner chuckled. They need her alive. He reminded himself, taking a deep breath. “Hey.” He snapped back at her. “Everyone’s gotta start somewhere.” He took a moment to release a hand from its vice grip on the steering wheel, which somehow hadn’t molded to the shape of his palms, and turn on the navigator. They were passing by a relatively guarded planet and the last thing he needed right now was to be taken in on a random license check. Despite the vast amount of species that traveled the galaxy, it was still incredibly difficult for a walking log and their furry companion to get through any kind of licensing service.  
“Keep an eye out Groot, we’re passing within Nova territory.” He called back, not really expecting a reply. The colossus, finally deciding to leave Rocket to himself (or at least as much as one could in a ship barely big enough to turn around in) and was now sitting cross-legged beside where the prisoner had been cuffed. His eyes were trained on the navigation, waiting for the red blips indicating any following ships. It wasn’t like any government to actually seek a passing ship out, but Rocket and the Nova corps never really seemed to be on best terms, and he really didn’t want to deal with the consequences of driving unlicensed in a bounty provided ship only weeks after his last prison break.  
“So… out of curiosity, how much am I worth to you guys?” Rocket didn’t even open his mouth to answer and although Groot answered with a jovial ‘I am Groot!’ she seemed dissatisfied. “A lot?” Groot nodded, the wood in his neck creaking as he did so. “Really? Did they provide you this amazing ship?” Another nod. “And these cuffs?” Groot hesitated that time. The two had brought those themselves. He shook his head.  
“Oh. So these are yours.” Rocket thought there was something off with all the questions she was asking, but as long as they weren’t directed towards him, he was content with simply watching the navigation screen for oncoming ships.  
“I am Grooooot?”  
His ears perked again as the sound of metal on metal rang briefly through the room. “Huh? What do you mean ya- Ah dammit Groot!” The colossus himself was still sitting across the room, staring dumbfounded at his wrist where one end of the cuff was now tightly clasped. The other loop was still connected to the blue skinned woman who was now smiling toothily, her forked tongue slipping out in a taunting gesture.  
“Sorry boys.” She started, grabbing Rocket by the hood of his jacket and pulling him from the controls. “But this is where I get off.” Her other hand appeared from behind her back, showing him clearly that she had slipped out of the thing altogether, holding it in her clawed fingers.  
Rocket barely had time to react before he felt himself being thrown against the wall, falling into a seated position beside his partner who looked just as confused. “Wait, no!” Rocket shouted in protest as he watched a three-fingered hand loop the metal cuffs behind the same pipe they had once been attached to before clicking the thing tightly around his skinny wrist. “Oh Come on!”  
His pulling did nothing but pull on Groot’s hand until it met with the pipe. “Groot! Come on break this flarking thing!” He shouted as the ex-prisoner began taking he controls in her own hands, steering the ship back towards the planet.  
“I am Groot.”  
“Inconsiderate?! Just break the damn pipe man!” Groot frowned, tapping the metal piece with a rough finger.  
“He’s right. This thing may have been supplied to you by a millionaire, but even I know the build’s cheap, snap that pipe and this thing goes down in a ball of fire.”  
It took another hour or so for the escapee to find a safe place to land the ship without running through Nova sensors herself and Rocket wasn’t quiet for a second of it. In fact, even as the engines died down and the airlock opened itself, he was shouting at the top of his lungs, his throat having already gone raw early on.  
“What? You can’t just leave us here!” He cried angrily, pulling against the chain as though it would snap in half at the slight weight change.  
“I’m sure you’ll figure something out.” She called back, ready to leap out the door and race to freedom before hesitating in her steps and letting out a sigh. “Here.” Rocket paused in his struggling to stare at the bracelet that had come to a stop at his feet. “It’s not 20K, but it’ll get you something better than those cheap cuffs. Now, I thank you for the hospitality, but I’ve really better be going.”  
“Wh…” Rocket picked the thing up in his hand. “Well I guess it wasn’t all a bust.” He heard the wood groan again as Groot nodded beside him. He looked up to see that dopey grin again. “For the record, I’m blamin all of this on you.”  
“I am Groot.”

**Author's Note:**

> I am open to whatever suggestions you may all have in terms of story ideas! I will be posting a new chapter sometime tomorrow, one much longer than this first that I have already written out. Feel free to message me, I love getting the feedback!


End file.
